ARRI ER 


REX  BEACH 


THE   BARRIER 


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The  Barrier 


Bj  REX  BEACH 

* 


AUTHOR    OF 

-The  Spoiler*,'"  "The  Silver  Horde."  Etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 

PublUhed  bv  arrangement  with  Harper  &  Brothers 


THE  BARRIER 


Copyright,  1908,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 
Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

I.  THE  LAST  FRONTIER      .........  i 

II.  POLEON  DORET'S  HAND  is  QUICKER  THAN  His 

TONGUE  .............  15 

III.  WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OP  CLERGY    ......  34 

IV.  THE  SOLDIER  FINDS  AN  UNTRODDEN  VALLEY     .  49 

V.  A  STORY  is  BEGUN   ..........  67 

VI.  THE  BURRELL  CODE  ..........  81 

VII.  THE  MAGIC  OF  BEN  STARK    .......  95 

VIII.  THE  KNIFE  .............  107 

IX.  THE  AWAKENING  ...........  124 

X.  MEADE  BURRELL  FINDS  A  PATH  IN  THE  MOON 

LIGHT      .............  141 

XI.  WHERE  THE  PATH  LED      ........  158 

XII.  A  TANGLED  SKEIN     ..........  174 

XIII.  STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAMB     .     .     .  190 

XIV.  A  MYSTERY  is  UNRAVELLED  .......  209 

XV.  AND  A  KNOT  TIGHTENED  ........  229 

XVI.  JOHN  GALE'S  HOUR  ..........  245 

XVII.  THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET    ......  259 

XVIII.  RUNNION  FINDS  THE  SINGING  PEOPLE     ...  283 

XIX.  THB  CALL  OP  THE  OREADS     .......  302 


M .  5820 


THE   BARRIER 

CHAPTER  I 

THB    LAST   FRONTIER 

MANY  men  were  in  debt  to  the  trader  at  Flambeau, 
and  many  counted  him  as  a  friend.  The  latter 
never  reasoned  why,  except  that  he  had  done  them 
favors,  and  in  the  North  that  counts  for  much.  Per 
haps  they  built  likewise  upon  the  fact  that  he  was  ever 
the  same  to  all,  and  that,  in  days  of  plenty  or  in  times 
of  famine,  his  store  was  open  to  every  man,  and  all 
received  the  same  measure.  Nor  did  he  raise  his  prices 
when  the  boats  were  late.  They  recalled  one  bleak 
and  blustery  autumn  when  the  steamer  sank  at  the 
Lower  Ramparts,  taking  with  her  all  their  winter's 
food,  how  he  eked  out  his  scanty  stock,  dealing  to  each 
and  every  one  his  portion,  month  by  month.  They 
remembered  well  the  bitter  winter  that  followed,  when 
the  spectre  of  famine  haunted  their  cabins,  and  when 
for  endless  periods  they  cinched  their  belts,  and  cursed 
and  went  hungry  to  sleep,  accepting,  day  by  day,  the 
rations  doled  out  to  them  by  the  grim,  gray  man  at 
the  log  store,  Some  of  them  had  money-belts  weight 
ed  low  with  gold  washed  from  the  bars  at  Forty  Mile, 
and  there  were  others  who  had  wandered  in  from  the 


THE    BARRIER 

Koyukuk  with  the  first  frosts,  foot-sore  and  dragging, 
the  legs  of  their  skin  boots  eaten  to  the  ankle,  and  the 
taste  of  dog  meat  still  in  their  mouths.  Broken  and 
dispirited,  these  had  fared  as  well  through  that  des 
perate  winter  as  their  brothers  from  up-river,  and  re 
ceived  pound  for  pound  of  musty  flour,  strip  for  strip 
of  rusty  bacon,  lump  for  lump  of  precious  sugar. 
Moreover,  the  price  of  no  single  thing  had  risen  through 
out  the  famine. 

Some  of  them,  to  this  day,  owed  bills  at  Old  Man 
Gale's,  of  which  they  dared  not  think;  but  every  fall 
and  every  spring  they  came  again  and  told  of  their  dis 
appointment,  and  every  time  they  fared  back  into  the 
hills  bearing  another  outfit,  for  which  he  rendered  no 
account,  not  even  when  the  debts  grew  year  by  year, 
not  even  to  "No  Creek"  Lee,  the  most  unlucky  of  them 
all,  who  said  that  a  curse  lay  on  him  so  that  when  a 
pay-streak  heard  him  coming  it  got  up  and  moved 
away  and  hid  itself. 

There  were  some  who  had  purposely  shirked  a  reckon 
ing,  in  years  past,  but  these  were  few,  and  their  finish 
had  been  of  a  nature  to  discourage  a  similar  practice 
on  the  part  of  others,  and  of  a  nature,  moreover,  to 
lead  good  men  to  care  for  the  trader  and  for  his  methods. 
He  mixed  in  no  man's  business,  he  took  and  paid  his 
dues  unfalteringly.  He  spoke  in  a  level  voice,  and  he 
smiled  but  rarely.  He  gazed  at  a  stranger  once  and 
weighed  him  carefully,  thereafter  his  eyes  sought  the 
distances  again,  as  if  in  searcn  of  some  visitor  whom 
he  knew  or  hoped  or  feared  would  come.  Therefore, 
men  judged  he  had  lived  as  strong  men  live,  and  were 
glad  to  call  him  friend. 

This  day  he  stood  in  the  door  of  his  post  staring  up 
the  sun- lit  river,  absorbing  the  warmth  of  the  Arctic 

2 


THE    LAST    FRONTIER 

afternoon.  The  Yukon  swept  down  around  the  great 
bend  beneath  the  high,  cut  banks  and  past  the  little 
town,  disappearing  behind  the  wooded  point  below, 
which  masked  the  up-coming  steamers  till  one  heard 
the  sighing  labor  of  their  stacks  before  he  saw  their 
smoke.  It  was  a  muddy,  rushing  giant,  bearing  a 
burden  of  sand  and  silt,  so  that  one  might  hear  it  hiss 
and  grind  by  stooping  at  its  edge  to  listen;  but  the 
slanting  sun  this  afternoon  made  it  appear  like  a  boil 
ing  flood  of  molten  gold  which  issued  silently  out  of 
a  land  of  mystery  and  vanished  into  a  valley  of  forget- 
fulness.  At  least  so  the  trader  fancied,  and  found  him 
self  wishing  that  it  might  carry  away  on  its  bosom  the 
heavy  trouble  which  weighed  him  down,  and  bring  in 
its  place  forgetfulness  of  all  that  had  gone  before.  In 
stead,  however,  it  seemed  to  hurry  with  news  of  those 
strange  doings  "up-river,"  news  that  every  down- 
coming  steamboat  verified.  For  years  he  had  known 
that  some  day  this  thing  would  happen,  that  some  day 
this  isolation  would  be  broken,  that  some  day  great 
hordes  of  men  would  overrun  this  unknown  land,  bring 
ing  with  them  that  which  he  feared  to  meet,  that  which 
had  made  him  what  he  was.  And  now  that  the  time 
had  come,  he  was  unprepared. 

The  sound  of  shouting  caused  him  to  turn  his  head. 
Down-stream,  a  thousand  yards  away,  men  were  rais 
ing  a  flag-staff  made  from  the  trunk  of  a  slender  fir, 
from  which  the  bark  had  been  stripped,  heaving  on 
their  tackle  as  they  sang  in  unison.  They  stood  well 
>out  upon  the  river's  bank  before  a  group  of  well-made 
houses,  the  peeled  timbers  of  which  shone  yellow  in  the 
sun.  He  noted  the  symmetrical  arrangement  of  the 
buildings,  noted  the  space  about  them  that  had  been 
smoothed  for  a  drill-ground,  and  from  which  the  stumps 

3 


THE    BARRIER 

had  been  removed;  noted  that  the  men  wore  suits  of 
blue;  and  noted,  in  particular,  the  figure  of  an  officer 
commanding  them. 

The  lines  about  the  trader's  mouth  deepened,  and 
his  heavy  brows  contracted. 

"That  means  the  law,"  he  murmured,  half  aloud^ 
while  in  his  voice  was  no  trace  of  pleasure,  nor  of  that 
interest  which  good  men  are  wont  to  show  at  sight  of 
the  flag.  "The  last  frontier  is  gone.  The  trail  ends 
here!" 

He  stood  so,  meditating  sombrely,  till  the  fragment 
of  a  song  hummed  lightly  by  a  girl  fell  pleasantly  on 
his  ears,  whereupon  the  shadows  vanished  from  his 
face,  and  he  turned  expectantly,  the  edges  of  his  teeth 
showing  beneath  his  mustache,  the  corners  of  his  eyes 
wrinkling  with  pleasure. 

The  sight  was  good  to  him,  for  the  girl  approaching 
down  the  trail  was  like  some  wood  sprite,  light-footed, 
slender,  and  dark,  with  twin  braids  of  hair  to  her  waist 
framing  an  oval  face  colored  by  the  wind  and  sun. 
She  was  very  beautiful,  and  a  great  fever  surged  up 
through  the  old  man's  veins,  till  he  gripped  the  boards 
at  his  side  and  bit  sharply  at  the  pipe  between  his 
teeth. 

"The  salmon-berries  are  ripe,"  she  announced,  "and 
the  hills  back  of  the  village  are  pink  with  them.  I  took 
Constantine's  squaw  with  me,  and  we  picked  quarts 
and  quarts.  I  ate  them  all!" 

Her  laughter  was  like  the  tinkle  of  silver  bells.  Her 
head,  thrown  back  as  she  laughed  gayly,  displayed  a 
throat  rounded  and  full  and  smooth,  and  tanned  to  the 
hue  of  her  wind-beaten  cheeks.  Every  move  of  her 
graceful  body  was  unrestrained  and  flowing,  with  a 
hint  of  Indian  freedom  about  it.  Beaded  and  trimmed 


THE    LAST    FRONTIER 

like  a  native  princess,  her  garments  manifested  an 
ornature  that  spoke  of  savagery,  yet  they  were  neatly 
cut  and  held  to  the  pattern  of  the  whites. 

"Constantine  was  drunk  again  last  night,  and  I  had 
to  give  him  a  talking  to  when  we  came  back.  Oh,  but 
I  laid  him  out!  He's  frightened  to  death  of  me  when 
I'm  angry." 

She  furrowed  her  brow  in  a  scowl  —  the  daintiest, 
most  ridiculous  pucker  of  a  brow  that  ever  man  saw — 
and  drew  her  red  lips  into  an  angry  pout  as  she  re 
counted  her  temperance  talk  till  the  trader  broke  in, 
his  voice  very  soft,  his  gray -blue  eyes  as  tender  as 
those  of  a  woman: 

"It's  good  to  have  you  home  again,  Necia.  The  old 
sun  don't  shine  as  bright  when  you're  away,  and  when 
it  rains  it  seems  like  the  moss  and  the  grass  and  the 
little  trees  was  crying  for  you.  I  reckon  everything 
weeps  when  you're  gone,  girl,  everything  except  your 
old  dad,  and  sometimes  he  feels  like  he'd  have  to  bust 
out  and  join  the  rest  of  them." 

He  seated  himself  upon  the  worn  spruce-log  steps, 
and  the  girl  settled  beside  him  and  snuggled  against  his 
knee. 

"I  missed  you  dreadfully,  daddy,"  she  said.  "It 
seemed  as  if  those  days  at  the  Mission  would  never 
end.  Father  Barnum  and  the  others  were  very  kind, 
and  I  studied  hard,  but  there  wasn't  any  fun  in  things 
without  you." 

"I  reckon  you  know  as  much  as  a  priest,  now,  don't 
you?" 

"Oh,  lots  more,"  she  said,  gravely.  "You  see,  I  am 
a  woman." 

He  nodded  reflectively.  "So  you  are!  I  keep  for 
getting  that." 

5 


THE    BARRIER 

Their  faces  were  set  towards  the  west,  where  the 
low  sun  hung  over  a  ragged  range  of  hills  topped  with 
everlasting  white.  The  great  valley,  dark  with  an  un 
trodden  wilderness  of  birch  and  spruce  and  alder,  lay 
on  this  side,  sombre  and  changeless,  like  a  great,  dark- 
green  mat  too  large  for  its  resting-place,  its  edges  turned 
up  towards  the  line  of  unmelting  snow.  Beyond  were 
other  ranges  thrust  skyward  in  a  magnificent  confusion, 
while  still  to  the  farther  side  lay  the  purple  valley  of 
the  Koyukuk,  a  valley  that  called  insistently  to  rest 
less  men,  welcoming  them  in  the  spring,  and  sending 
them  back  in  the  late  summer  tired  and  haggard 
with  the  hunger  of  the  North.  Each  year  a  tithe  re 
mained  behind,  the  toll  of  the  trackless  places,  but 
the  rest  went  back  again  and  again,  and  took  new 
brothers  with  them. 

"Did  you  like  the  books  I  sent  you  with  Poleon 
when  he  went  down  to  the  coast?  I  borrowed  them 
from  Shakespeare  George/' 

The  girl  laughed.  "Of  course  I  did— that  is,  all  but 
one  of  them." 

"Which  one?" 

"I  think  it  was  called  The  Age  of  Reason,  or  some 
thing  like  that.  I  didn't  get  a  good  look  at  it,  for 
Father  Barnum  shrieked  when  he  saw  it,  then  snatched 
it  ivS  if  it  were  afire.  He  carried  it  down  to  the  river 
with  the  tongs." 

"H'm!  Now  that  I  think  of  it,"  said  the  old 
man,  "Shakespeare  grinned  when  he  gave  it  to  me. 
You  see,  Poleon  ain't  much  better  on  the  read  than 
I  am,  so  we  never  noticed  what  kind  of  a  book  it 
was." 

"When  will  Poleon  get  back,  do  you  suppose?" 

"Most  any  day  now,  unless  the  Dawson  dance-halls 

6 


THE    LAST    FRONTIER 

are  too  much  for  him.  It  won't  take  him  long  to  sell 
our  skins  if  what  I  hear  is  true." 

"What  is  that?" 

"About  these  Cheechakos.  They  say  there  are 
thousands  of  tenderfeet  up  there,  and  more  coming 
in  every  day." 

"Oh!  If  I  had  only  been  here  in  time  to  go  with 
him!"  breathed  the  girl.  "I  never  saw  a  city.  It 
must  be  just  like  Seattle,  or  New  York." 

Gale  shook  his  head.  "No.  There's  considerable 
difference.  Some  time  I'll  take  you  out  to  the  States, 
and  let  you  see  the  world — maybe."  He  uttered  the 
last  word  in  an  undertone,  as  if  in  self -debate,  but  the 
girl  was  too  excited  to  notice. 

"You  will  take  mother,  too,  and  the  kiddies,  won't 
you?" 

"Of  course!" 

"Oh!  I— I—"  The  attempt  to  express  what  this 
prospect  meant  to  her  was  beyond  her  girlish  rapture, 
but  her  parted  lips  and  shining  eyes  told  the  story  to 
Gale.  "And  Poleon  must  go,  too.  We  can't  go  any 
where  without  him."  The  old  man  smiled  down  upon 
her  in  reassurance.  "I  wo.ider  what  he'll  say  when 
he  finds  the  soldiers  have  come.  I  wonder  if  he'll 
like  it." 

Gale  turned  his  eyes  down-stream  to  the  barracks,  and 
noted  that  the  long  flag-staff  had  at  last  been  erected. 
Even  as  he  looked  he  saw  a  bundle  mounting  towards 
its  tip,  and  then  beheld  the  Stars  and  Stripes  flutter 
out  in  the  air,  while  the  men  below  cheered  noisily. 
It  was  some  time  before  he  answered. 

"Poleon  Doret  is  like  the  rest  of  us  men  up  here 
in  the  North.  We  have  taken  care  of  ourselves  so 
far,  and  I  guess  we're  able  to  keep  it  up  without 
'  7 


THE    BARRIER 

the  help  of  a   smooth-faced  Yankee   kid  for  guar- 
dian." 

"Lieutenant  Burrell  isn't  a  Yankee,"  said  Necia. 
"He  is  a  blue-grass  man.  He  comes  from  Kentucky." 

Her  father  grunted  contemptuously.  "I  might  have 
known  it.  Those  rebels  are  a  cultus,  lazy  lot.  A  regu 
lar  male  man  with  any  ginger  in  him  would  shed  his 
coat  and  go  to  work,  instead  of  wearing  his  clothes  but 
toned  up  all  day.  It  don't  take  much  'savvy'  to  run 
a  handful  of  thirteen-dollar-a-month  soldiers."  Necia 
stirred  a  bit  restlessly,  and  the  trader  continued:  "It 
ain't  man's  work,  it's — loafing.  If  he  tries  to  boss  us 
he'll  get  quite  a  surprise." 

"He  won't  try  to  boss  you.  He  has  been  sent  here 
to  build  a  military  post,  and  to  protect  the  miners  in 
their  own  self-government.  He  won't  take  any  part 
in  their  affairs  as  long  as  they  are  conducted  peace 
ably." 

Being  at  a  loss  for  an  answer  to  this  unexpected  de 
fence,  the  old  man  grunted  again,  with  added  contempt, 
while  his  daughter  continued: 

"This  rush  to  the  upper  country  has  brought  in  all 
sorts  of  people,  good,  bad — and  worse;  and  the  soldiers 
have  been  sent  to  prevent  trouble,  and  to  hold  things 
steady  till  the  law  can  be  established.  The  Canadian 
Mounted  Police  are  sending  all  their  worst  characters 
down-river,  and  our  soldiers  have  been  scattered  among 
the  American  camps  for  our  protection.  I  think  it's 
fine." 

"Where  did  you  learn  all  this?" 

"Lieutenant  Burrell  told  me,"  she  replied;  at  which 
her  father  regarded  her  keenly.  She  could  not  see 
the  curious  look  in  his  eyes,  nor  did  she  turn  when,  a 
moment  later,  he  resumed,  in  an  altered  tone: 

8 


THE    LAST    FRONTIER 

"I  reckon  Poleon  will  bring  you  something  pretty 
from  Dawson,  eh?" 

"He  has  never  failed  to  bring  me  presents,  no  matter 
where  he  came  from.  Dear  old  Poleon!"  She  smiled 
tenderly.  "Do  you  remember  that  first  day  when  he 
drifted,  singing,  into  sight  around  the  bend  up  yonder? 
He  had  paddled  his  birch-bark  from  the  Chandelar 
without  a  thing  to  eat ;  hunger  and  hardship  only  made 
him  tne  happier,  and  the  closer  he  drew  his  belt  the 
louder  he  sang." 

"He  was  bound  for  his  'New  Country'!" 

"Yes.  He  didn't  know  where  it  lay,  but  the  fret 
for  travel  was  on  him,  and  so  he  drifted  and  sang,  as 
he  had  drifted  and  sung  from  the  foot  of  Lake  Le 
Barge." 

"That  was  four  years  ago,"  mused  Gale,  "and  he 
never  found  his  'New  Country/  did  he?" 

"No.  We  tied  him  down  and  choked  it  out  of  him," 
Necia  laughed.  "Dear,  funny  old  Poleon — he  loves  me 
like  a  brother." 

The  man  opened  his  lips,  then  closed  them,  as  if  on 
second  thought,  and  rose  to  his  feet,  for,  coming  tow 
ards  them  up  the  trail  from  the  barracks,  he  beheld  a 
trim,  blue-coated  figure.  He  peered  at  the  approach 
ing  officer  a  moment,  set  his  jaw  more  firmly,  and  dis 
appeared  into  the  store. 

"Well,  we  have  raised  our  flag-staff,"  said  the  Lieu 
tenant  as  he  took  a  seat  below  Necia.  "It's  like  get 
ting  settled  to  keep  house." 

"Are  you  lazy?"  inquired  the  girl. 

"I  dare  say  I  am,"  he  admitted.  "I've  never  had 
time  to  find  out.  Why?" 

"Are  you  going  to  boss  our  people  around?"  she 
continued,  bent  on  her  own  investigation. 

9 


THE    BARRIER 

"No.  Not  as  long  as  they  behave.  In  fact,  I 
hardly  know  what  I  am  to  do.  Maybe  you  can  tell 
me."  His  smile  was  peculiarly  frank  and  winning. 
"You  see,  it's  my  first  command,  and  my  instructions, 
although  comprehensive,  are  rather  vague.  I  am  sup 
posed  to  see  that  mining  rights  are  observed,  to  take 
any  criminals  who  kindly  offer  themselves  up  to  be  ar 
rested,  and  to  sort  of  handle  things  that  are  too  tough 
for  the  miners  themselves." 

"Why,  you  are  a  policeman!"  said  Necia,  at  which 
he  made  a  wry  face. 

"The  Department,  in  its  wisdom,  would  have  me,  a 
tenderfoot,  adjust  those  things  that  are  too  knotty 
for  these  men  who  have  spent  their  lives  along  the 
frontier." 

"I  don't  believe  you  will  be  very  popular  with  our 
people,"  Necia  announced,  meditatively. 

"No.  I  can  see  that  already.  I  wasn't  met  with 
any  brass-bands,  and  I  haven't  received  any  engraved 
silver  from  the  admiring  citizens  of  Flambeau.  That 
leaves  nothing  but  the  women  to  like  me,  and,  as  you 
are  the  only  one  in  camp,  you  will  have  to  like  me  very 
much  to  make  up  for  its  shortcomings." 

She  approved  of  his  unusual  drawl;  it  gave  him  a 
kind  of  deliberation  which  every  move  of  his  long, 
lithe  body  belied  and  every  glance  of  his  eyes  con 
tradicted.  Moreover,  she  liked  his  youth,  so  clean 
and  fresh  and  strange  in  this  land  where  old  men  ar« 
many  and  the  young  ones  old  with  hardship  and  grave 
with  the  silence  of  the  hills.  Her  life  had  been  spent 
entirely  among  men  who  were  her  seniors,  and,  al 
though  she  had  ruled  them  like  a  spoiled  queen,  she 
knew  as  little  of  their  sex  as  they  did  of  hers.  Un 
consciously  the  strong  young  life  within  her  had  clam- 

10 


THE    LAST    FRONTIER 

ored  for  companionship,  and  it  was  this  that  had 
drawn  her  to  Poleon  Doret — who  would  ever  remain 
a  boy — and  it  was  this  that  drew  her  to  the  young 
Kentuckian;  this,  and  something  else  in  him,  that 
the  others  lacked. 

"Now  that  I  think  it  over,"  he  continued,  "I'd 
rather  have  you  like  me  than  have  the  men  do  so." 

"Of  course,"  she  nodded.  "They  do  anything  I 
want  them  to — all  but  father,  and — " 

"It  isn't  that,"  he  interrupted,  quickly.  "It  is  be 
cause  you  are  the  only  woman  of  the  place,  because 
you  are  such  a  surprise.  To  think  that  in  the  heart 
of  this  desolation  I  should  find  a  girl  like — like  you, 
like  the  girls  I  know  at  home." 

"Am  I  like  other  girls?"  she  inquired,  eagerly.  "I 
have  often  wondered." 

"You  are,  and  you  are  not.  You  are  surprisingly 
conventional  for  these  surroundings,  and  yet  uncon 
ventionally  surprising — for  any  place.  Who  are  you? 
Where  did  you  come  from?  How  did  you  get  here?*' 

"I  am  just  what  you  see.  I  came  from  the  States, 
and  I  was  carried.  That  is  all  I  can  remember." 

"Then  you  haven't  lived  here  always?" 

"Oh,  dear,  no!  We  came  here  while  I  was  very  lit 
tle,  but  of  late  I  have  been  away  at  school." 

"Some  seminary,  eh?" 

At  this  she  laughed  aloud.  "Hardly  that,  either. 
I've  been  at  the  Mission.  Father  Barnum  has  been 
teaching  me  for  five  years.  I  came  up-river  a  day 
ahead  of  you." 

She  asked  no  questions  of  him  in  return,  for  she  had 
already  learned  all  there  was  to  know  the  day  before 
from  a  grizzled  corporal  in  whom  was  the  hunger  to 
talk.  She  had  learned  of  a  family  of  Burrells  whose 

zz 


THE    BARRIER 

name  was  known  throughout  the  South,  and  that 
Meade  Burrell  came  from  the  Frankfort  branch,  the 
branch  that  had  raised  the  soldiers.  His  father  had 
fought  with  Lee,  and  an  uncle  was  now  in  the  service 
at  Washington.  On  the  mother's  side  the  strain  was 
equally  militant,  but  the  Meades  had  sought  the  sea. 
The  old  soldier  had  told  her  much  more,  of  which  she 
understood  little;  told  her  of  the  young  man's  sister, 
who  had  come  all  the  way  from  Kentucky  to  see  her 
brother  off  when  he  sailed  from  San  Francisco;  told 
her  of  the  Lieutenant's  many  friends  in  Washington, 
and  of  his  family  name  and  honor.  Meade  Burrell 
was  undoubtedly  a  fine  young  fellow  in  his  corporal's 
eyes,  and  destined  to  reach  great  heights,  as  the  other 
Burrells  had  before  him.  The  old  soldier,  further 
more,  had  looked  at  her  keenly  and  added  that  the 
Burrells  were  known  as  "divils  among  the  weemen." 
Resting  thus  on  the  steps  of  Old  Man  Gale's  store, 
the  two  talked  on  till  they  were  disturbed  by  the 
sound  of  shrill  voices  approaching,  at  which  the  man 
looked  up.  Coming  down  the  trail  from  the  town 
was  a  squaw  and  two  children.  At  sight  of  Necia  the 
little  ones  shouted  gleefully  and  scampered  forward, 
climbing  over  her  like  half-grown  puppies.  They  were 
boy  and  girl,  both  brown  as  Si  washes,  with  eyes  like 
jet  beads  and  hair  that  was  straight  and  coarse  and 
black.  At  a  glance  Burrell  knew  them  for  "breeds," 
and  evidently  the  darker  half  was  closer  to  the  surface 
now,  for  they  choked,  gurgled,  stuttered,  and  coughed 
in  their  Indian  tongue,  while  Necia  answered  them  like 
wise.  At  a  word  from  her  they  turned  and  saw  him, 
then,  abashed  at  the  strange  splendor  of  his  uniform,  fell 
silent,  pressing  close  to  her.  The  squaw,  also,  seemed 
to  resent  his  presence,  for,  after  a  lowering  glance, 

12 


THE    LAST    FRONTIER 

she  drew  the  shawl  closer  about  her  head,  and,  leaving 
the  trail,  slunk  out  of  sight  around  the  corner  of  the 
store. 

Burrell  looked  up  at  his  companion's  clear-cut,  deli 
cate  face,  at  the  wind-tanned  cheeks,  against  which  her 
long  braids  lay  like  the  blue-black  locks  of  an  Egyptian 
maid,  then  at  her  warm,  dark  eyes,  in  which  was  a  hint 
of  the  golden  light  of  the  afternoon  sun.  He  noted 
covertly  the  slender  lines  of  her  body  and  the  dainty, 
firm,  brown  hands  flung  protectingly  about  the  shoul 
ders  of  her  little  friends,  who  were  peering  at  him  owl- 
ishly  from  their  shelter. 

The  bitter  revolt  that  had  burned  in  him  at  the  pros 
pect  of  a  long  exile  in  this  undiscovered  spot  died  out 
suddenly.  What  a  picture  she  made!  How  fresh  and 
flower-like  she  looked,  and  yet  the  wisdom  of  her!  He 
spoke  impulsively: 

"I  am  glad  you  are  here,  Miss  Necia.  I  was  glad 
the  moment  I  saw  you,  and  I  have  been  growing  glad 
der  ever  since,  for  I  never  imagined  there  would  be 
anybody  in  this  place  but  men  and  squaws — men  who 
hate  the  law  and  squaws  who  slink  about — like  that." 
He  nodded  in  the  direction  of  the  Indian  woman's  disap 
pearance.  "Either  that,  or,  at  best,  a  few  'breeds' 
like  these  little  fellows." 

She  looked  at  him  quickly. 

"Well!     What  difference  would  that  make?" 

"Ugh!  Squaws  and  half-breeds!"  His  tone  con 
veyed  in  full  his  utter  contempt. 

The  tiny  hands  of  the  boy  and  girl  slid  into  her  own 
as  she  arose.  A  curiously  startled  look  lay  in  her 
eyes,  and  an  inquiring,  plaintive  wrinkle  came  be 
tween  her  brows. 

"I  don't  believe  you  understand,"  she  said.  "Lieu- 

13 


THE    BARRIER 

tenant  Burrell,  this  is  my  sister,  Molly  Gale,  and  this 
is  my  little  brother  John."  Both  round  -  eyed  elfs 
made  a  ducking  courtesy  and  blinked  at  the  soldier, 
who  gained  his  feet  awkwardly,  a  flush  rising  into  his 
cheeks. 

From  the  regions  at  the  rear  of  the  store  came  the 
voice  of  an  Indian  woman  calling: 

'•'Necia!     Necia!" 

"Coming  in  a  moment,"  the  girl  called  back;  then, 
turning  to  the  young  officer,  she  added,  quietly: 
"Mother  needs  me  now.  Good-bye  1" 


CHAPTER  II 
POLEON  DORET'S  HAND  is  QUICKER  THAN  HIS  TONGUH 

THE  trader's  house  sat  back  of  the  post,  farther  up 
on  the  hill.  It  was  a  large,  sleepy  house,  sprawl 
ing  against  the  sunny  side  of  the  slope,  as  if  it  had 
sought  the  southern  exposure  for  warmth,  and  had 
dozed  off  one  sultry  afternoon  and  never  waked  up 
from  its  slumber.  It  was  of  great,  square-hewn  tim 
bers,  built  in  the  Russian  style,  the  under  side  of  each 
log  hollowed  to  fit  snugly  over  its  fellow  underneath, 
upon  which  dried  moss  had  previously  been  spread, 
till  in  effect  the  foot-thick  walls  were  tongued  and 
grooved  and,  through  years  of  seasoning,  become  so 
tinder  dry  that  no  frosts  or  heats  could  penetrate 
them.  Many  architects  had  worked  on  it  as  it  grew, 
room  by  room,  through  the  years,  and  every  man  had 
left  behind  the  mark  of  his  individuality,  from  Pretty 
Charlie  the  pilot,  who  swung  an  axe  better  than  any 
Indian  on  the  river,  to  Larsen  the  ship's  carpenter,  who 
worked  with  an  adze  and  who  starved  the  summer 
following  on  the  Koyukuk.  It  had  stretched  a  bit 
year  by  year,  for  the  trader's  family  had  been  big  in 
the  early  days  when  hunters  and  miners  of  both  breeds 
came  in  to  trade,  to  loaf,  and  to  swap  stories  with  him. 
Through  the  winter  days,  when  the  caribou  were  in  the 
North  and  the  moose  were  scarce,  whole  families  of 
natives  came  and  camped  there,  for  Alluna,  his  squaw, 

15 


THE    BARRIER 

drew  to  her  own  blood,  and  they  felt  it  thei?  due 
to  eat  of  the  bounty  of  him  who  ruled  them  like  an 
overlord ;  but  when  the  first  goose  honked  they  slipped 
away  until,  by  the  time  the  salmon  showed,  the  house 
was  empty  again  and  silent,  save  for  Alluna  and  the 
youngsters.  In  return  these  people  brought  him  many 
skins  and  much  fresh  meat,  for  which  he  paid  no  price, 
and,  with  the  fall,  his  cache  was  filled  with  fish  of 
which  the  bulk  were  dried  king  salmon  as  long  as  a 
grown  man's  leg  and  worth  a  dollar  apiece  to  any 
traveller. 

There  are  men  whose  wits  are  quick  as  light,  and 
whose  muscles  have  been  so  tempered  and  hardened 
by  years  of  exercise  that  they  are  like  those  of  a  wild 
animal.  Of  such  was  John  Gale;  but  with  all  his  in 
telligence  he  was  very  slow  at  reading,  hence  he  chose 
to  spend  his  evenings  with  his  pipe  and  his  thoughts, 
rather  than  with  a  book,  as  lonesome  men  are  sup 
posed  to  do.  He  did  with  little  sleep,  and  many  nights 
he  sat  alone  till  Alluna  and  Necia  would  be  awakened 
by  his  heavy  step  as  he  went  to  his  bed.  That  he 
was  a  man  who  could  really  think,  and  that  his  thoughts 
were  engrossing,  no  one  doubted  who  saw  him  sitting 
enthralled  at  such  a  time,  for  he  neither  rocked,  nor 
talked,  nor  moved  a  muscle  hour  after  hour,  and  only 
his  eyes  were  alive.  To-night  the  spell  was  on  him 
again,  and  he  sat  bulked  up  in  his  chair,  rocklike  and 
immovable. 

From  the  open  door  of  the  next  room  he  could  hear 
Necia  and  the  little  ones.  She  had  made  them  ready 
for  bed,  and  was  telling  them  the  tale  of  the  snow* 
bird's  spot. 

"So  when  all  the  other  birds  had  failed,"  he  heard 
her  say,  "the  little  snowbird  asked  for  a  chance  to 

16 


DORET'S  HAND   QUICKER  THAN  HIS  TONGUE 

try.  He  flew  and  flew,  and  just  before  he  came  to  the 
edge  of  the  world  where  the  two  Old  Women  lived  he 
pulled  out  all  of  his  feathers.  When  he  came  to  them 
he  said: 

'"I  am  very  cold.  May  I  warm  myself  at  your 
fire?' 

"They  saw  how  little  and  naked  he  was,  and  how 
he  shivered,  so  they  did  not  throw  sticks  at  him,  but 
allowed  him  to  creep  close.  He  watched  his  chance, 
and  when  they  were  not  looking  he  picked  up  a  red- 
hot  coal  in  his  beak  and  flew  back  home  with  it  as  fast 
as  ever  he  could — and  that  is  how  fire  came  to  the 
Indian  people. 

"Of  course  the  coal  was  hot,  and  it  burned  his  throat 
till  a  drop  of  blood  came  through,  so  ever  since  that 
day  the  snowbird  has  had  a  red  spot  on  his  throat." 

The  two  children  spoke  out  in  their  mother's  tongue, 
clamoring  for  the  story  of  the  Good  Beaver  who  saved 
the  hunter's  life,  and  she  began,  this  time  in  the  lan 
guage  of  the  Yukon  people,  while  Gale  listened  to  the 
low  music  of  her  voice,  muffled  and  broken  by  the  log 
partition. 

His  squaw  came  in,  her  arrival  unannounced  ex 
cept  by  the  scuff  of  her  moccasins,  and  seated  herself 
against  the  wall.  She  did  not  use  a  chair,  of  which 
there  were  several,  but  crouched  upon  a  bear-skin, 
her  knees  beneath  her  chin,  her  toes  a  trifle  drawn  to 
gether.  She  sat  thus  for  a  long  time,  while  Necia 
continued  her  stories  and  put  the  little  ones  to  bed. 
Soon  the  girl  came  to  say  good-night. 

John  Gale  had  never  kissed  his  daughter,  and,  as  it 
was  not  a  custom  of  her  mother's  race,  she  never  missed 
the  caresses.  On  rare  occasions  the  old  man  romped 
with  the  little  ones  and  took  them  in  his  arms  and  acted 


THE    BARRIER 

as  other  fathers  act,  but  he  had  never  done  these  things 
with  her.  When  she  had  gone  he  spoke  without 
moving. 

"She'll  never  marry  Poleon  Doret." 

"Why?"  inquired  Aliuna. 

"He  ain't  her  kind." 

"Poleon  is  a  good  man." 

"None  better.  But  she'll  marry  some — some  white 
man." 

"Poleon  is  white,"  the  squaw  declared. 

"He  is  and  he  ain't.  I  mean  she'll  marry  an  *  out 
side  '  man.  He  ain't  good  enough,  and — well,  he  ain't 
her  kind."  Alluna's  grunt  of  indignation  was  a  suffi 
cient  answer  to  this,  but  he  resumed,  jerking  his  head 
in  the  direction  of  the  barracks.  "She's  been  talking 
a  lot  with  this — this  soldier." 

"Him  good  man,  too,  I  guess,"  said  the  wife. 

"The  hell  he  is!"  cried  the  trader,  fiercely.  "He 
don't  mean  any  good  to  her." 

"Him  got  a  woman,  eh?"  said  the  other. 

"No,  no!  I  reckon  he's  single  all  right,  but  you 
don't  understand.  He's  different  from  us  people. 
He's — he's — "  Gale  paused,  at  a  loss  for  words  to 
convey  his  meaning.  "Well,  he  ain't  the  kind  that 
would  marry  a  half-breed." 

Aliuna  pondered  this  cryptic  remark  unsuccessfully, 
and  was  still  seeking  its  solution  when  her  lord  con 
tinued: 

"If  she  really  got  to  loving  him  it  would  be  bad  for 
all  of  us." 

Evidently  Aliuna  read  some  hidden  meaning  back 
of  these  words,  for  srie  spoke  quickly,  but  in  her  own 
tongue  now,  as  she  was  accustomed  to  do  when  ex 
cited  or  alarmed. 

18 


DORET'S  HAND  QUICKER  THAN  HIS  TONGUE 

"Then  this  thing  must  cease  at  once.  The  risk  is 
too  great.  Better  that  you  kill  him  before  it  is  too 
late." 

"Hardly  that,"  said  the  trader. 

"Think  of  the  little  ones  and  of  me,"  the  squaw 
insisted,  and,  encouraged  by  his  silence,  continued: 
"Why  not?  Soon  the  nights  will  grow  dark.  The 
river  runs  swiftly,  and  it  never  gives  up  its  dead.  I 
can  do  it  if  you  dare  not.  No  one  would  suspect 
me." 

Gale  rose  and  laid  his  big  hand  firmly  on  her  shoul 
der. 

"Don't  talk  like  that.  There  has  been  too  much 
blood  let  already.  We'll  allow  things  to  run  along  a 
bit  as  they  are.  There's  time  enough  to  worry." 

He  rose,  but  instead  of  going  to  his  room  he  strode 
out  of  the  house  and  walked  northward  up  the  trail, 
passing  through  the  town  and  out  of  sight.  Alluna 
sat  huddled  up  in  the  doorway,  her  shawl  drawn  close 
about  her  head,  and  waited  for  him  until  the  late  sun — 
which  at  this  time  of  year  revolves  in  a  great  circle 
overhead — dipped  down  below  the  distant  mountains 
for  the  midnight  hour,  then  rolled  slanting  out  again 
a  few  points  farther  north,  to  begin  its  long  journey 
anew;  but  he  did  not  return.  At  last  she  crept  stiffly 
in-doors,  like  an  old  and  weary  woman,  the  look  of 
fright  still  staring  in  her  eyes. 

About  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  a  faint  and 
long-drawn  cry  came  from  the  farthest  limits  of  the 
little  camp.  An  instant  later  it  was  echoed  closer,  and 
then  a  dog  began  to  howl.  Before  its  voice  had  died 
away  another  took  it  up  sadly,  and  within  three  breaths, 
from  up  and  down  the  half-mile  of  scanty  water-front, 
came  the  cry  of  "Steam-bo-o-a-t!"  Cabin  doors 

19 


THE    BARRIER 

opened  and  men  came  out,  glanced  up  the  stream  and 
echoed  the  call,  while  from  sleepy  nooks  and  sun- 
warmed  roofs  wolf-dogs  arose,  yawning  and  stretching. 
Those  who  had  slept  late  dressed  as  they  hurried  tow 
ards  the  landing-place,  joining  in  the  plaint,  till  men 
and  malamutes  united  in  the  shrill,  slow  cry. 

Down-stream  came  the  faint-sighing  whoof-whoof  of 
a  steamer,  and  then  out  from  behind  the  bend  she 
burst,  running  on  the  swift  spring  current  with  the 
speed  of  a  deer.  She  blew  hoarsely  before  the  tardy 
ones  had  reached  the  bank,  and  when  abreast  of  the 
town  her  bell  clanged,  the  patter  of  her  great  wheel 
ceased,  she  reversed  her  engines  and  swung  gracefully 
till  her  bow  was  up  against  the  current,  then  ploughed 
back,  inching  in  slowly  until,  with  much  shouting  and 
the  sound  of  many  gongs,  she  slid  her  nose  quietly 
into  the  bank  beneath  the  trading-post  and  was  made 
fast.  Her  cabin-deck  was  lined  with  passengers,  most 
of  whom  were  bound  for  the  "outside,"  although  stil! 
clad  in  mackinaw  and  overalls.  They  all  gazed  silent 
ly  at  the  hundred  men  of  Flambeau,  who  stared  back 
at  them  till  the  gang-plank  was  placed,  when  they  came 
ashore  to  stretch  their  legs.  One  of  them,  however, 
made  sufficient  noise  to  make  up  for  the  silence  of 
the  others.  Before  the  steamer  had  grounded  he  ap 
peared  among  the  Siwash  deck-hands,  his  head  and 
shoulders  towering  above  them,  his  white  teeth  gleam 
ing  from  a  face  as  dark  as  theirs,  shouting  to  his 
friends  ashore  and  pantomiming  his  delight  to  the  two 
Gale  children  who  had  come  with  Alluna  to  welcome 
him. 

"Who's  dose  beeg,  tall  people  w'at  stan'  'longsids 
of  you,  Miz  Gale?"  he  called  to  her;  then,  shading  his 
eyes  elaborately,  he  cried,  in  a  great  voice:  "Wall! 

20 


DORET'S   HAND   QUICKER  THAN   HIS  TONGUE 

wall  I  b'lieve  dat's  M'sieu  Jean  an'  Mam'selle  Mollee. 
Ba  Gar!  Dey  get  so  beeg  w'ile  I'm  gone  I  don'  know 
dem  no  more!" 

The  youthful  Gales  wriggled  at  this  delicious  flattery 
and  dug  their  tiny  moccasined  toes  into  the  sand. 
Molly  courtesied  nervously  and  continuously  as  she 
clung  to  her  mother,  and  the  boy  showed  a  gap  where 
two  front  teeth  had  been  and  was  now  filled  by  a  very 
pink  tongue. 

"Wen  you  goin'  stop  grow,  anyhow,  you  two,  eh?" 
continued  the  Frenchman,  and  then,  in  a  tone  of  sad 
ness:  "If  I  t'ink  you  ack  lak'  dis,  I  don'  buy  all  dese 
present.  Dese  t'ing  ain'  no  good  for  ole  folks.  I 
guess  I'll  t'row  dem  away."  He  made  as  if  to  heave  a 
bundle  that  he  carried  into  the  river,  whereupon  the 
children  shrieked  at  him  so  shrilly  that  he  laughed 
long  and  incontinently  at  the  success  of  his  sally. 

Lieutenant  Burrell  had  come  with  the  others,  for 
the  arrival  of  a  steamboat  called  for  >,he  presence  of 
every  soul  in  camp,  and,  spying  Necia  in  the  outskirts 
of  the  crowd,  he  took  his  place  beside  her.  He  felt  con 
strained,  after  what  had  happened  on  the  previous 
evening,  but  she  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  episode, 
and  greeted  him  with  her  usual  frankness.  Even  had 
she  remembered  it,  there  was  nothing  he  could  say  in 
explanation  or  in  apology.  He  had  lain  awake  for 
hours  thinking  of  her,  and  had  fallen  asleep  with  her 
still  in  his  mind,  for  the  revelation  of  her  blood  had 
come  as  a  shock  to  him,  the  full  force  of  which  he 
could  not  appreciate  until  he  had  given  himself  time 
to  think  of  it  calmly. 

He  had  sprung  from  a  race  of  siave-holders,  from 
a  land  where  birth  and  breed  are  more  than  any  other 
thing,  where  a  drop  of  impure  blood  effects  an  in* 

21 


THE    BARRIER 

eracLcable  stain;  therefore  the  thought  of  this  girl's 
ignoble  parentage  was  so  repugnant  to  him  that  the 
more  he  pondered  it  the  more  pitiful  it  seemed,  the 
more  monstrous.  Lying  awake  and  thinking  of  her 
in  the  stillness  of  his  quarters,  it  had  seemed  a  very 
unfortunate  and  a  very  terrible  thing.  During  his 
morning  duties  the  vision  of  her  had  been  fresh  be 
fore  him  again,  and  his  constant  contemplation  of 
the  matter  had  wrought  a  change  in  his  attitude 
towards  the  girl,  of  which  he  was  uncomfortably 
conscious  and  which  he  was  glad  to  see  she  did  not 
perceive. 

"There  are  some  of  the  lucky  men  from  El  Dorado 
Creek,"  she  inlormed  him,  pointing  out  certain  people 
on  the  deck.  "They  are  going  out  to  the  States  to 
get  something  to  eat.  They  say  that  nothing  like 
those  mines  have  ever  been  heard  of  in  the  world.  I 
wish  father  had  gone  up  last  year  when  the  news 
came." 

"Why  didn't  he?"  asked  the  Lieutenant.  "Surely 
he  must  have  been  among  the  first  to  learn  of  it." 

"Yes.  '  Stick  '  George  sent  him  word  a  year  ago  last 
fall,  when  he  made  the  first  discovery,  but  for  some 
reason  father  wouldn't  go." 

The  men  were  pouring  off  the  boat  now,  and  through 
the  crowd  came  the  tall  Frenchman,  bearing  in  the 
hollow  of  each  arm  a  child  who  clasped  a  bundle  to 
its  breast.  His  eyes  grew  brighter  at  sight  of  Necia, 
and  he  broke  into  a  flood  of  patois;  they  fairly  bom 
barded  each  other  with  quick  questions  and  fragmen 
tary  answers  till  she  remembered  her  companion,  who 
had  fallen  back  a  pace  and  was  studying  the  new 
comer,  whereupon  she  turned. 

"Oh,   I   forgot   my  manners.     Lieutenant   Burrell, 

22 


DORET'S   HAND   QUICKER  THAN  HIS  TONGUE 

this  is  Napoleon  Doret — our  Poleon!"  she  added,  with 
proud  emphasis." 

Doret  checked  his  volubility  and  stared  at  the 
soldier,  whom  he  appeared  to  see  for  the  first  time. 
The  little  brown  people  in  his  arms  stared  likewise, 
and  it  seemed  to  Burrell  that  a  certain  distrust  was  in 
each  of  the  three  pairs  of  eyes,  only  in  those  of  the 
man  there  was  no  shyness.  Instead,  the  Canadian 
looked  him  over  gravely  from  head  to  heel,  seeming 
to  note  each  point  of  the  unfamiliar  attire;  then  he 
inquired,  without  removing  his  glance: 

'Were 'bouts  you  live,  eh?" 

"I  live  at  the  post  yonder,"  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"Wat  biznesse  you  work  at?" 

"I  am  a  soldier." 

"Wat  for  you  come  'ere?  Dere's  nobody  fightin* 
roun'  dis  place." 

"The  Lieutenant  has  been  stationed  here,  foolish," 
said  Necia.  "Come  up  to  the  store  quick  and  tell  me 
what  it's  like  at  Dawson."  With  a  farewell  nod  to 
Burrell,she  went  off  with  Doret,  whose  speech  was  im 
mediately  released  again. 

In  spite  of  the  man's  unfriendliness,  Burrell  watched 
him  with  admiration.  There  were  no  heels  to  his 
tufted  fur  boots,  and  yet  he  stood  a  good  six  feet  two, 
as  straight  as  a  pine  sapling,  and  it  needed  no  second 
glance  to  tell  of  what  metal  he  was  made.  His  spirit 
showed  in  his  whole  body,  in  the  set  of  his  head,  and, 
above  all,  in  his  dark,  warm  face,  which  glowed  with 
eagerness  when  he  talked,  and  that  was  ever — when  he 
was  not  singing. 

"I  never  see  so  many  people  since  I  lef  Quebec," 
he  was  saying.  "She's  jus'  lak'  beeg  city — mus'  be 
t'ree,  four  t'ousan*  people.  Every  day  some  more 
•  23 


THE    BARRIER 

dey  come,  an*  all  night  dey  dance  an'  sing  an'  drink 
w'iskee.  Ba  gosh,  dat's  fine  place!" 

"Are  there  lots  of  white  women  ?"  asked  the  girl. 

"Yes,  two,  t'ree  hondred.  Mos'  of  dem  is  work  in 
dance-halls.  Dere's  one  fine  gal  I  see,  name  Marie 
Bourgette.  I  tell  you  'bout  her  by-an'-by." 

"Oh,  Poleon,  you're  in  love!"  cried  Necia. 

"No,  siree!"  he  denied.  "Dere's  none  of  dem  gal 
look  half  so  purty  lak'  you."  He  would  have  said 
more,  but  spying  the  trader  at  the  entrance  of  the  store, 
he  went  to  him,  straightway  launching  into  the  de 
tails  of  their  commercial  enterprise,  which,  happily,  had 
been  most  successful.  Before  they  could  finish,  the 
crowd  from  the  boat  began  to  drift  in,  some  of  them 
buying  drinks  at  the  bar  and  others  making  purchases 
of  tobacco  and  so  forth,  but  for  the  main  part  merely 
idling  about  curiously. 

Among  the  merchandise  of  the  Post  there  were  for 
sale  a  scanty  assortment  of  fire-arms,  cheap  shot-guns, 
and  a  Winchester  or  two,  displayed  in  a  rack  behind 
the  counter  in  a  manner  to  attract  the  eye  of  such  native 
hunters  as  might  need  them,  and  with  the  rest  hung  a 
pair  of  Colt's  revolvers.  One  of  the  new  arrivals,  who 
had  separated  from  the  others  at  the  front,  now  called 
to  Gale: 

"Are  those  Colts  for  sale?  Mine  was  stolen  the 
other  day."  Evidently  he  was  accustomed  to  Yukon 
prices,  for  he  showed  no  surprise  at  the  figure  the 
trader  named,  but  took  the  guns  and  tested  each  of 
them,  whereupon  the  old  man  knew  that  here  was  no 
"Cheechako,"  as  tenderfeet  are  known  in  the  North, 
although  the  man's  garb  had  deceived  him  at  first 
glance.  The  stranger  balanced  the  weapons,  one  in 
either  hand,  then  he  did  the  "double  roll"  neatlye 

24 


DORET'S  HAND  QUICKER  THAN  HIS  TONGUE 

following  which  he  executed  a  move  that  Gale  had 
not  witnessed  for  many  years.  He  extended  one  of 
the  guns,  butt  foremost,  as  if  surrendering  it,  the 
action  being  free  and  open,  save  for  the  fact  that  his 
forefinger  was  crooked  and  thrust  through  the  trigger- 
guard;  then,  with  the  slightest  jerk  of  the  wrist,  the 
gun  spun  about,  the  handle  jumped  into  his  palm,  and 
instantly  there  was  a  click  as  his  thumb  flipped  the 
hammer.  It  was  the  old  "road-agent  spin,"  which 
Gale  as  a  boy  had  practised  hours  at  a  time;  but  that 
this  man  was  in  earnest  he  showed  by  glancing  up 
ward  sharply  when  the  trader  laughed. 

"This  one  hangs  all  right,"  he  said;  "give  me  a 
box  of  cartridges." 

He  emptied  his  gold-sack  in  payment  for  the  gun 
and  ammunition,  then  remarked: 

"That  pretty  nearly  cleans  me.  If  I  had  the  price 
I'd  take  them  both." 

Gale  wondered  what  need  induced  this  fellow  to 
spend  his  last  few  dollars  on  a  fire-arm,  but  he  said 
nothing  until  the  man  had  loosened  the  bottom  but 
tons  of  his  vest  and  slipped  the  weapon  inside  the 
band  of  his  trousers,  concealing  its  handle  beneath  the 
edge  of  his  waistcoat.  Then  he  inquired: 

"Bound  for  the  outside?" 

"No.     I'm  locating  here." 

The  trader  darted  a  quick  glance  at  him.  He  did 
not  like  this  man. 

"There  ain't  much  doing  in  this  camp;  it's  a  pretty 
poor  place,"  he  said,  guardedly. 

"I'll  put  in  with  you,  from  its  looks,"  agreed  the 
other.  "It's  got  too  many  soldiers  to  be  worth  a 
damn."  He  snarled  this  bitterly,  with  a  peculiar  leer- 
Ing  lift  of  his  lip,  as  if  his  words  tasted  badly. 


THE    BARRIER 

"Most  of  the  boys  are  going  tip-river,"  said  Gale. 

"Well,  those  hills  look  as  if  they  had  gold  in  them," 
said  the  stranger,  pointing  vaguely.  "I'm  going  to 
prospect." 

Gale  knew  instinctively  that  the  fellow  was  lying, 
for  his  hands  were  not  those  of  a  miner;  but  there 
was  nothing  to  be  said.  His  judgment  was  verified, 
however,  when  Poleon  drew  him  aside  later  and  said: 

"You  know  dat  feller?" 

"No." 

"He's  bad  man." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"She's  leave  Dawson  damn  queeck.  Dose  Mounted 
Police  t'row  'im  on  de  boat  jus'  before  we  lef."  Then 
he  told  a  story  that  he  had  heard.  The  man,  it  seemed, 
had  left  Skagway  between  two  suns,  upon  the  disrup 
tion  of  Soapy  Smith's  band  of  desperadoes,  and  had 
made  for  the  interior,  but  had  been  intercepted  at 
the  Pass  by  two  members  of  the  Citizens'  Committee 
who  came  upon  him  suddenly.  Pretending  to  yield, 
he  had  executed  some  unexpected  coup  as  he  delivered 
his  gun,  for  both  men  fell,  shot  through  the  body.  No 
one  knew  just  what  it  was  he  did,  nor  cared  to  question 
him  overmuch.  The  next  heard  of  him  was  at  Lake 
Bennett,  over  the  line,  where  the  Mounted  Police  recog 
nized  him  and  sent  him  on.  They  marked  him  well, 
however,  and  passed  him  on  from  post  to  post  as  they 
had  driven  others  whose  records  were  known;  but  he 
had  lost  himself  in  the  confusion  at  Dawson  for  a  few 
weeks,  until  the  scarlet-coated  riders  searched  him 
out,  disarmed  him,  and  forced  him  sullenly  aboard 
this  steamer.  The  offscourings  of  the  Canadian  fron 
tier  were  drifting  back  into  their  native  country  to 
settle. 

26 


DORET'S  HAND  QUICKER  THAN  HIS  TONGUE 

Old  Man  Gale  cared  little  for  this,  for  he  had  spent 
his  life  among  such  men,  but  as  he  watched  the  fellow 
a  scheme  outlined  itself  in  his  head.  Evidently  the 
man  dared  not  go  farther  down  the  river,  for  there  was 
nothing  save  Indian  camps  and  a  Mission  or  two  this 
side  of  St.  Michael's,  and  at  that  point  there  was  a  court 
and  many  soldiers,  where  one  was  liable  to  meet  the 
penalty  of  past  misdeeds,  hence  he  was  probably  re 
solved  to  stop  here,  and,  judging  by  his  record,  he  was 
a  man  of  settled  convictions.  Continued  persecution 
is  wont  to  stir  certain  natures  to  such  reckless  des 
peration  that  interference  is  dangerous,  and  Gale,  re 
calling  his  sullen  look  and  ill-concealed  contempt  for 
the  soldiers,  put  the  stranger  down  as  a  man  of  this 
type.  Furthermore,  he  had  been  impressed  by  the 
fellow's  remarkable  dexterity  of  wrist. 

The  trader  stepped  to  the  door,  and,  seeing  Burrell 
on  the  deck  of  the  steamer,  went  down  towards  him. 
It  was  a  long  chance,  but  the  stakes  were  big  and  worth 
the  risk.  He  had  thought  much  during  the  night  previ 
ous — in  fact,  for  many  hours — and  the  morning  had 
found  him  still  undecided,  wherefore  he  took  this  course. 

"Necia  tells  me  that  you  aim  to  keep  law  and  order 
here,"  he  began,  abruptly,  having  drawn  the  young 
man  aside. 

"Those  are  my  instructions,"  said  Burrell,  "but 
they  are  so  vague — " 

"Well!  This  camp  is  bigger  than  it  was  an  hour 
ago,  and  it  'ain't  improved  any  in  the  growth.  Yonder 
goes  the  new  citizen."  He  pointed  to  the  stranger, 
who  had  returned  to  the  steamer  for  his  baggage  and 
was  descending  the  gang-plank  beneath  them,  a  valise 
in  each  hand.  "He's  a  thief  and  a  murderer, and  we 
don't  want  him  here.  Now,  it's  up  to  you." 

27 


THE    BARRIER 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  where* 
upon  the  trader  told  him  Doret's  tale.  "You  and 
your  men  were  sent  here  to  keep  things  peaceable,"  he 
concluded,  'and  I  reckon  when  a  man  is  too  tough 
for  the  Canuck  police  he  is  tough  enough  for  you  to 
tackle.  There  ain't  a  lock  and  key  in  the  camp,  and 
we  ain't  had  a  killing  or  a  stealing  in  ten  years.  We'd 
like  to  keep  it  that  way." 

"Well — you  see — I  know  nothing  of  that  shooting 
affray,  so  I  doubt  if  my  authority  would  permit  me  to 
interfere,"  the  soldier  mused,  half  to  himself. 

"I  allowed  you  were  to  use  your  own  judgment," 
said  the  elder  man. 

"So  I  am,  I  suppose.  There  is  one  chance,  Mr. 
Gale.  If  you'll  back  me  up  I'll  send  him  on  down 
to  St.  Michael's.  That  is  the  most  I  can  do." 

The  Lieutenant  outlined  his  plan,  and  as  he  went  on 
the  trader  nodded  approval. 

The  young  man  gazed  back  at  him  so  squarely,  his 
eyes  were  so  pleasant  and  friendly,  his  whole  person 
breathed  such  straight-up  honesty  and  freshness,  that 
shame  arose  in  the  old  man,  and  he  had  hard  shift  to 
keep  his  glance  from  wavering.  Without  forethought 
he  answered,  impulsively: 

"He's  desperate  and  he's  dangerous.  I  sold  him  a 
'  45  '  just  now."  He  was  about  to  tell  him  where  the 
man  wore  it,  and  to  add  a  word  concerning  his  dex 
terity  with  the  gun,  when  the  very  fearless  delibera 
tion  of  the  youth  deterred  him.  On  second  thought, 
Gale  yielded  to  an  impulse  to  wait  and  see  how  Meade 
Burrell  would  act  under  fire.  If  the  soldier  emerged 
scathless,  it  would  give  him  a  line  on  his  character; 
if  he  did  not — well,  that  would  be  even  better.  The 
sight  of  his  blue  and  brass  awoke  in  the  elder  maa 

28 


DORET'S  HAND  QUICKER  THAN  HIS  TONGUE 

dread  and  cowardice,  emotions  he  had  never  experi 
enced  before.  Anyhow,  he  owed  it  to  himself,  to  Necia, 
and  to  the  others  to  find  out  what  kind  of  man  this 
soldier  was. 

The  crowd  was  coming  back  to  the  steamer,  which 
had  discharged  her  few  bundles  of  freight,  and  there 
was  no  one  inside  the  log  post  as  they  entered  except 
Doret  and  the  stranger,  who  had  deposited  his  bag 
gage  at  the  rear  and  was  talking  with  the  Frenchman 
at  the  bar.  At  sight  of  the  Lieutenant  he  became 
silent,  and  turned  carelessly,  although  with  a  distrust 
ful  stare.  Burrell  wasted  no  time. 

"Are  you  going  to  locate  here?"  he  began. 

"Yes." 

"I  notice  you  go  skeleton-rigged,"  the  soldier  con 
tinued,  indicating  the  man's  baggage.  "Pretty  small 
outfit  for  a  miner,  isn't  it?" 

"It's  plenty  for  me." 

"Have  you  enough  money  to  buy  your  season's  grub  ?" 

"I  guess  that's  my  business." 

"Pardon  me,  it  is  my  business  also." 

"What  is  this— a  hold-up  ?"  The  man  laughed  harsh 
ly,  at  the  same  time  swinging  around  till  he  faced  his 
questioner.  Gale  noted  that  his  right  hand  now  hung 
directly  over  the  spot  where  his  suspenders  buttoned 
on  the  right  side.  The  trader  moved  aside  and  took 
tip  a  position  at  some  distance. 

"My  orders  are  to  see  that  all  new-comers  either  have 
an  outfit  or  are  able  to  buy  one,"  said  Burrell.  "Those 
that  are  not  equipped  properly  are  to  be  sent  down 
river  to  St.  Michael's,  where  there  is  plenty  of  every 
thing  and  where  they  will  be  taken  care  of  by  the 
government.  Mr.  Gale  has  only  sufficient  provisions 
to  winter  the  men  already  in  this  district." 

29 


THE    BARRIER 

**I  can  take  care  of  myself,"  said  the  man,  angrily, 
"whether  I'm  broke  or  not,  and  I  don't  want  any  of 
your  interference."  He  shot  a  quick  glance  at  Poleon 
Doret,  but  the  Frenchman's  face  was  like  wood,  and 
his  hand  still  held  the  neck  of  the  whiskey  bottle 
he  had  set  out  for  the  stranger  before  the  others  en 
tered.  Gale  leaned  against  the  opposite  counter,  his 
countenance  inert  but  for  the  eyes,  which  were  fixed 
upon  the  Lieutenant. 

"Come,"  said  the  officer,  peremptorily,  "I  have 
heard  all  about  you,  and  you  are  not  the  kind  of  citizen 
we  want  here,  but  if  you  have  enough  money  for  an 
outfit  I  can't  send  you  away.  If  you  haven't — " 

"I'm broke, "said  the  man,  but  at  the  note  in  his  voice 
Poleon  Doret's  muscles  tightened,  and  Burrell,  who  also 
read  a  sinister  message  in  the  tone,  slid  his  heavy  ser 
vice  revolver  from  its  holster  beneath  his  coat. 

He  had  never  done  this  thing  before,  and  it  galled 
him.  He  had  never  drawn  a  weapon  on  a  man,  and 
this  playing  at  policeman  became  suddenly  most  re 
pugnant,  stirring  in  him  the  uncomfortable  feeling 
that  he  was  doing  a  mean  thing,  and  not  only  a  mean 
thing,  but  one  of  which  he  ought  to  be  heartily  ashamed. 
He  felt  decidedly  amateurish,  especially  when  he  saw 
that  the  man  apparently  intended  no  resistance  and 
made  no  mo^e.  However,  he  was  in  for  it  now,  and 
must  end  as  he  had  begun. 

"Give  me  your  gun,"  he  said;  "I'll  unload  it  and  give 
it  back  to  you  at  the  gang-plank." 

"All  right,  you've  got  the  upper  hand,"  said  the 
man  through  lips  that  had  gone  white.  Drawing  his 
weapon  from  beneath  his  vest,  he  presented  it  to 
the  officer,  butt  foremost,  hammer  underneath.  The 
cylinder  reposed  naturally  in  the  palm  of  his  hand, 

30 


IfrORET'S  HAND  QUICKER  THAN  HIS  TONGUE 

and  the  tip  of  his  forefinger  was  thrust  through  the 
trigger-guard. 

Burrell  lowered  the  barrel  of  his  revolver  and  put 
out  his  left  hand  for  the  other's  weapon.  Suddenly 
the  man's  wrist  jerked,  the  soldier  saw  a  blue  flicker 
of  sunlight  on  the  steel  as  it  whirled,  saw  the  arm  of 
Poleon  Doret  fling  itself  across  the  bar  with  the  speed 
of  a  striking  serpent,  heard  a  smash  of  breaking  glass, 
felt  the  shock  of  a  concussion,  and  the  spatter  of  some 
jiquid  in  his  face.  Then  he  saw  the  man's  revolver 
on  the  floor  half-way  across  the  room,  saw  fragments 
of  glass  with  it,  and  saw  the  fellow  step  backward, 
Snatching  at  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand.  A  smell 
of  powder-smoke  and  rank  whiskey  was  in  the  air. 

There  are  times  when  a  man's  hand  will  act  more 
swiftly  than  his  tongue.  Napoleon  Doret  had  seen 
the  manner  of  the  stranger's  surrender  of  his  gun,  and, 
realizing  too  late  what  it  meant,  had  acted.  At  the 
very  instant  of  the  fellow's  treachery,  Doret  struck 
with  his  bottle  just  in  time  to  knock  the  weapon  from 
his  hand,  but  not  in  time  to  prevent  its  discharge.  The 
bullet  was  lodged  in  the  wall  a  foot  from  where  Gale 
stood.  As  the  stranger  staggered  back,  the  French 
man  vaulted  the  bar,  but,  though  swift  as  a  cat,  the 
soldier,  who  had  also  leaped,  was  before  him.  Aiming 
a  sweeping  downward  blow  with  his  Colt,  Burrell 
clipped  the  Skagway  man  just  above  the  ear,  and  he 
reeled;  then  as  he  fell  the  officer  struck  wickedly 
again  at  his  opponent's  skull,  but  Doret  seized  him  by 
the  arm. 

44 Ba  Gar,  don't  kill  'im  twice!" 

Burrell  wrenched  his  arm  free  and  turned  on  Doret 
a  face  that  remained  long  in  the  Frenchman's  memory, 
a  face  suffused  with  fury  and  convulsed  like  that  of  a 


THE    BARRIER 

sprinter  at  the  finish  of  a  race.  The  two  men  stare/1  at 
each  other  over  the  fallen  figure  for  a  brief  moment* 
until  the  soldier  gained  mastery  of  himself  and  sheathed 
Ms  weapon,  when  Poleon  smiled. 

"I  spoil'  a  quart  of  good  w'iskee  on  you.  Dat's 
wort*  five  dollar." 

The  Lieutenant  wiped  the  liquor  from  his  face. 

"Quick  work,  Doret,"  he  said.     "I  owe  you  one." 

Gale's  face  was  hidden  as  he  bent  over  the  prostrate 
man,  fingering  a  long  and  ragged  cut  which  laid  the 
fellow's  scalp  open  from  back  of  the  ear  to  the  temple, 
but  he  mumbled  something  unintelligibleo 

"Is  he  hurt  badly?" 

"No,  you  chipped  him  too  low,"  said  the  trader.  "I 
told  you  he  was  bad." 

"He's  goin*  have  nice  birt'-mark,  anyhow,"  said 
Doret,  going  back  of  the  bar  for  some  water.  They 
revived  the  man,  then  bound  up  his  injury  hastily,  and 
as  the  steamer  cast  off  they  led  him  to  the  bank  and 
passed  his  grip-sacks  to  a  roustabout.  He  said  no  word 
as  he  walked  unsteadily  up  the  plank,  but  turned  and 
stared  malignantly  at  them  from  the  deck;  then,  as 
the  craft  swung  outward  into  the  stream,  he  grinned 
through  the  trickle  of  blood  that  stole  down  from 
beneath  his  wide  hat,  if  the  convulsive  grimace  he  made 
could  be  termed  a  grin,  and  cried: 

"I'd  like  to  introduce  myself,  for  I'm  coming  back 
to  winter  with  you,  Lieutenant!  My  name  is  Run- 
nion."  And  until  the  steamer  was  hidden  behind  the 
bend  below  they  saw  him  standing  there  gazing  back 
at  them  fixedly. 

As  Burrell  left  the  two  men  at  the  store,  he  gave  his 
hand  frankly  to  the  French-Canadian,,  and  saidp  while 
his  cheeks  flushed: 


DORET'S  HAND  QUICKER  THAN  HIS  TONGUE 

"I  want  to  thank  you  for  saving  me  from  my  own 
awkwardness. " 

Doret  became  even  more  embarrassed  than  the 
Lieutenant  at  this  show  of  gratitude,  and  grunted 
churlishly.  But  when  the  young  man  had  gone  he 
turned  to  Gale,  who  had  watched  them  silently,  and 
said: 

"He's  nice  young  feller,  ole  man.  Saprel  Wen 
he's  mad  his  eye  got  so  red  laic1  my  onaershirt." 

But  the  trader  made  no  reply. 


CHAPTER  III 

WITHOUT   BENEFIT   OP   CLERGT 

WHEN  the  steamer  bad  gone  Napoleon  Doret  went 
to  look  for  Necia,  and  found  her  playing  with  the 
younger  Gales,  who  revelled  in  the  gifts  he  had  brought. 
Never  had  there  been  such  a  surprise.  Never  had 
there  been  such  gorgeous  presents  for  little  folks.  This 
was  a  land  in  which  there  were  no  toys,  a  country  too 
young  for  babes ;  and  any  one  whose  youth  had  been 
like  that  of  other  children  would  have  seen  a  pathos 
in  the  joy  of  these  two.  Poleon  had  been  hard  put 
to  it  to  find  anything  suitable  for  his  little  friends,  for 
although  there  was  all  manner  of  merchandise  coming 
into  Dawson,  none  of  it  was  designed  for  tiny  peoplea 
not  even  clothes. 

It  was  evident  that  he  had  pleased  them,  for  when 
he  appeared  they  ran  at  his  legs  like  twin  cubs,  in 
coherent  and  noisy,  the  pleasure  within  them  too  tur 
bulent  for  expression.  They  had  never  played  with 
a  toy  that  Poleon  had  not  built  for  them,  nor  worn  a 
garment  that  Alluna  had  not  made.  This,  then,  was  a 
day  of  revelations,  for  the  first  thing  they  beheld  upon 
opening  their  packs  was  a  pair  of  rubber  boots  for 
each.  They  were  ladies'  knee-boots,  the  smallest  size 
in  stock,  but  the  Gales  entered  them  bodily,  so  to  speak, 
moccasins  and  all,  clear  to  their  hips,  like  the  waders 
that  duck-hunters  use.  When  they  ran  tney  tetl  down 

34 


WITHOUT    BENEFIT    OF    CLERGY 

and  out  of  them,  but  their  pride  remained  upright  and 
serene,  for  were  not  these  like  the  boots  that  Poleon 
wore,  and  not  of  Indian  make,  with  foolish  beads  on 
them  ?  Next,  the  youthful  heir  had  found  a  straw  hat  of 
strange  and  wondrous  fashion,  with  a  brim  like  a  board 
and  a  band  of  blue,  which  Poleon  had  bought  from  a 
college  man  who  had  retained  this  emblem  of  his  past 
to  the  final  moment.  Like  the  boots,  it  was  much  too 
large  for  little  John,  and  hard  to  master,  but  it  made  a 
brave  display,  as  did  a  red  cravat,  which  covered  his 
front  like  a  baseball  catcher's  harness.  Molly  had 
also  two  sets  of  side-combs,  gorgeously  ornamented 
with  glass  diamonds,  and  a  silver-handled  tooth-brush, 
with  which  she  scrubbed  the  lame  puppy.  This  puppy 
had  three  legs  and  the  mange,  and  he  was  her  par 
ticular  pride. 

There  were  certain  other  things,  the  use  of  which 
they  did  not  understand,  like  queer-smelling,  soft, 
yellow  balls  which  Necia  said  were  oranges  and  good 
to  eati  although  the  skins  were  leathery  and  very  bit 
ter,  nor  were  they  nearly  so  pleasant  to  the  nose  as 
the  toilet  soap,  which  Necia  would  not  allow  them 
even  to  taste.  Then  there  was  a  box  of  chocolate 
candies  such  as  the  superintendent  at  St.  Michael's 
sent  them  every  spring,  and  an  atomizer,  which  Necia 
had  filled  with  Florida  Water.  This  worked  on  the 
puppy  even  better  than  the  tooth-brush. 

The  elder  girl  laughed  gladly  as  Poleon  entered, 
though  her  eyes  were  wet  with  the  pity  of  it. 

"You  seem  to  bring  sunshine  wherever  you  go," 
she  said.  "They  have  never  had  things  to  play  with 
like  other  children,  and  it  makes  me  cry  to  watch  them." 

"Ho, ho!"  he  chuckled,  "dis  ain*  no  time  for  cryin*. 
Ba  gosh!  I  guess  you  don*  have  so  much  present 

35 


THE    BARRIER 

w'en  you  was  liT  gal  you'se'f,  w'at?  Mebbe  you 
t'ink  I  forget  you.  Wai,  I  didn't. " 

He  began  to  undo  the  fastenings  of  a  parcel  he  car 
ried  in  his  arms,  for  Napoleon  Doret  had  brought  other 
things  from  Dawson  besides  his  gilts  to  the  children. 
Necia  snatched  at  the  package. 

"Don't  you  dare  open  it!  Why,  that's  half  the 
fun."  She  was  a  child  herself  now,  her  face  flushed 
and  her  hands  a-tremble.  Taking  the  package  to  the 
table,  she  hurriedly  untied  the  knots  while  he  stood 
watching  her,  his  teeth  showing  white  against  his  dark 
face,  and  his  eyes  half  shut  as  if  dazzled  by  the  sight  of 
her. 

"Oh,  why  didn't  you  tie  more  knots  in  it?"  she 
breathed  as  she  undid  the  last,  and  then,  opening  the 
wrappings  slowly,  she  gasped  in  astonishment.  She 
shook  it  out  gently,  reverently — a  clinging  black  lace 
gown  of  Paris  make.  Next  she  opened  a  box  and 
took  from  it  a  picture  hat,  with  long  jet  plumes,  which 
she  stroked  and  pressed  fondly  against  her  face. 
There  were  other  garments  also — a  silken  petticoat, 
silk  stockings,  and  a  pair  of  high -heeled  shoes  to  match, 
with  certain  other  delicate  and  dainty  things  which 
she  modestly  forbore  to  inspect  before  the  French 
man,  who  said  no  word,  but  only  gazed  at  her,  and  for 
whom  she  had  no  eyes  as  yet.  Finally  she  laid  her 
presents  aside,  and,  turning  to  him,  said,  in  a  hushed, 
awe-stricken  voice: 

"It's  all  there,  everything  complete!  Oh,  Poleon — 
you  dear,  dear  Poleon!"  She  took  his  two  big  hands 
by  the  thumbs,  as  had  been  her  custom  ever  since 
she  was  a  child,  and  looked  up  at  him,  her  eyes  wet 
with  emotion.  But  she  could  not  keep  away  from  the 
dre^s  for  long,  and  returned  to  feast  her  eyes  upon  it» 

36 


WITHOUT  BENEFIT  OP  CLERGY 

the  two  children  standing  beside  her,  sprouting  out 
o£  their  rubber  boots,  with  eyes  and  mouths  round 
and  protruding. 

"You  lak'  it,  eh?"  pressed  Poleon,  hungry  for  more 
demonstrative  expression. 

"Oh-h,"  she  sighed,  "can't  you  see  t  Where  on 
earth  did  you  get  it  ?"  Then  suddenly  realizing  its 
ralue,  she  cried,  "Why,  it  must  have  cost  a  fortune!" 
A  quick  reproach  leaped  into  her  face,  but  he  only 
laughed  again. 

"Wan  night  I  gamble  in  beeg  saloon.  Yes,  sir!  I 
gamble  good  dat  night,  too.  For  w'ile  I  play  roulette, 
den  I  dance,  den  I  play  some  more,  an'  by-an'-by  I 
§ee  a  new  dance  gal.  She's  Tranche  gal,  from  Mon 
treal.  Dat's  de  one  I  tol'  you  'bout.  Ba  Gar!  She's 
swell  dress',  too.  She's  name'  Marie  Bourgette." 

"Oh,  I've  heard  about  her,"  said  Necia.  "She  owns 
a  claim  on  Bonanza  Creek." 

"Sure,  she's  frien's  wit'  Charlie  McCormack,  dat  riche 
feller,  but  I  don*  know  it  dis  tarn',  so  I  ask  her  for  dance 
wit*  me.  Den  we  drink  a  bottle  of  champagne — 
twenty  dollar. 

"'Mamselle,'  I  say,  'how  much  you  charge  for  sell 
me  dat  dress?' 

"'For  w'y  shall  I  sell  im,'  she  say;  'I  don*  wear  'im 
before  till  to-night,  an'  I  don'  get  no  more  dress  lak' 
dis  for  t'ousan'  dollar.'" 

Necia  exclaimed  excitedly. 

"'For  w'y  you  sell  'im?'  I  say.  'Biccause  I'll  takf 
'im  down  to  Flambeau  for  Necia  Gale,  w'at  never  had 
no  dress  lak'  dat  in  all  her  life.'  Wai,  sir,  dat  Marie 
Bourgette,  she's  hear  of  you  before,  an'  your  dad,  too 
— mos'  all  dose  Cheechakos  know  'bout  Old  Man  Gate- 
so  she  say: 

37 


THE    BARRIER 

"'Wat  lookin'  kind  of  gal  is  dis  Necia?'  An'  I  tell 
her  all  'bout  you.  Wen  I'm  t 'rough  she  say: 

'"But  maybe  your  little  fricin'  is  more  bigger  as  I 
am.  Maybe  de  dress  won't  fit.* 

'"Ha!  You  don'  know  me,  mamselle,'  I  say.  4I 
can  guess  de  weight  of  a  caribou  to  five  poun*.  She'll 
be  same  size  la'kin'  one  inch  'roun'  de  waisV 

"'Poleon  Doret,'  she  say,  'you  ain*  no  Franche- 
mans  to  talk  lak'  dat.  Look  here!  I  can  sell  dis  dress 
for  t'ousan'  dollar  to-night,  or  I  can  trade  'im  for  gol'- 
mine  on  El  Dorado  Creek  to  some  dose  Swede  w'at 
want  to  catch  a  gal,  but  I'm  goin*  sell  'im  to  you  for 
t'ree  hondred  dollar,  jus'  w'at  I  pay  for  'im.  You 
wait  here  till  I  come  back.' 

"'No,  no,  Mamselle  Marie,  I'll  go  'long,  too,  for  so 
you  don*  change  your  min','  I  say;  an'  I  stan'  outside 
her  door  till  she  pass  me  de  whole  dam*  works. 

"  '  Don'  forget  de  little  shoes,'  I  say — an'  dat's  how 
it  come!" 

"And  you  paid  three  hundred  dollars  for  it!"  Necia 
said,  aghast.  The  Canadian  shrugged. 

"Only  for  de  good  heart  of  Marie  Bourgette  I  pa# 
wan  t'ousan*/'  said  he.  "  I  mak'  seven  hondred  dollar 
clean  profit!'* 

"It  was  very  nice  of  both  of  you,  but— I  can't  weai 
It.  I've  never  seen  a  dress  like  it,  except  in  pictures, 
and  I  couldn't —  "  She  saw  his  face  fall,  and  said,  im 
pulsively: 

"I'll  wear  it  once,  anyhow,  Poleon,  just  for  you. 
Go  away  quick,  now,  and  let  me  put  it  on." 

"Dat's  good,"  he  nodded,  as  he  moved  away.  "I 
bet  you  mak'  dose  dance-hall  women  look  lak'  sucker.'* 

No  man  may  understand  the  girl's  feelings  as  she 
set  about  clothing  herself  in  her  first  fine  dress.  Time 


WITHOUT    BENEFIT    OF    CLERGY 

and  again  she  had  studied  pictures  from  the  "out* 
side"  showing  women  arrayed  in  the  newest  styles, 
and  had  closed  her  eyes  to  fancy  herself  dressed  in 
like  manner.  She  had  always  had  an  instinctive  feel 
ing  that  some  day  she  would  leave  the  North  and  see 
the  wonderful  world  of  which  men  spoke  so  much,  and 
mingle  with  the  fine  ladies  of  her  picture-books,  but  she 
never  dreamed  to  possess  an  evening-gown  while  she 
lived  in  Alaska.  And  now,  even  while  she  recognized 
the  grotesqueness  of  the  situation,  she  burned  to  wear 
it  and  see  herself  in  the  garb  of  other  women.  So, 
with  the  morning  sun  streaming  brightly  into  her 
room,  lighting  up  the  moss-chinked  walls,  the  rough 
barbarism  of  fur  and  head  and  trophy,  she  donned 
the  beautiful  garments. 

Poleon's  eye  had  been  amazingly  correct,  for  it 
fitted  her  neatly,  save  at  the  waist,  which  was  even 
more  than  an  inch  too  large,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  she  had  never  worn  such  a  corset  as  the  well- 
formed  Marie  Bourgette  was  accustomed  to. 

She  pondered  long  and  hesitated  modestly  when  she 
saw  its  low  cut,  which  exposed  her  neck  and  shoulders 
in  a  totally  unaccustomed  manner,  for  it  struck  her 
as  amazingly  indecent  until  she  scurried  through  her 
magazines  again  and  saw  that  its  construction,  as 
compared  with  others,  was  most  conservative.  Even 
so  she  shrank  at  sight  of  herself  below  the  line  of  sun 
burn,  for  she  was  ringed  about  like  a  blue-winged  teal, 
the  demarcation  being  more  pronounced  because  of 
the  natural  whiteness  of  her  skin.  The  year  previous 
Doret  had  brought  her  from  the  coast  a  Spanish  shawl, 
which  a  salt-water  sailor  had  sold  him,  and  which  had 
lain  folded  away  ever  since.  She  brought  it  forth  now 
and  arranged  it  about  her  shoulders,  but  in  spite  of 
a  39 


THE    BARRIER 

this  covering  the  fair  flesh  beneath  peeped  through  it* 
wide  interstices  most  brazenly.  She  had  never  paid 
marked  attention  to  the  fairness  of  her  skin  till  now, 
and  all  at  once  this  difference  between  herself  and  her 
little  brother  and  sister  struck  her.  She  had  been  a 
mother  to  them  ever  since  they  came,  and  had  often 
laughed  when  she  saw  how  brown  their  little  bodies 
were,  rejoicing  in  blushing  quietude  at  her  own  white* 
ness,  but  to-day  she  neither  laughed  nor  felt  any  joy, 
rather  a  dim  wonder.  She  sat  down,  dress  and  all,  in 
the  thick  softness  of  a  great  brown  bear -skin  and 
thought  it  over. 

How  odd  it  was,  now  that  she  considered  it,  that 
she  needed  no  aid  with  these  alien  garments,  that  she 
knew  instinctively  their  every  feature,  that  there  was 
no  intricacy  to  cause  her  more  than  an  instant's  trouble. 
This  knowledge  must  be  a  piece  with  the  intuitive  wit 
that  had  been  the  wonder  of  Father  Barnum  and  had 
enabled  her  to  absorb  his  teachings  as  fast  as  he  gave 
them  forth. 

She  was  interrupted  in  her  reverie  by  the  passing  of 
a  shadow  across  her  window  and  the  stamp  of  a  man's 
feet  on  the  planks  at  the  door0  Of  course,  it  was 
Poleon,  who  had  come  back  to  see  her;  so  she  roee 
hastily,  gave  one  quick  glance  at  the  mirror  above 
her  washstand,  choosing  the  side  that  distorted  her 
image  the  least,  and,  hearing  him  still  stamping,  per 
functorily  called: 

"Come  in!     Ill  be  right  out." 

She  kicked  the  train  into  place  behind  her,  looped 
ths  shawl  carelessly  about  her  in  a  way  to  veil  her 
modesty  effectively,  and,  with  an  expectant  smile  at  his 
extravagance  of  admiration,  swept  out  into  the  big 
•room,  very  self-conscious  and  very  pleasing  to  tho 

40 


WITHOUT    BENEFIT    OF    CLERGY 

eye.  She  crossed  proudly  to  the  reading-table  to  give 
him  a  fair  view  of  her  splendor,  and  was  into  the  mid 
dle  of  the  room  before  she  looked  up.  Taken  aback, 
she  uttered  a  little  strangled  cry  and  made  a  quick 
movement  of  retreat,  only  to  check  herself  and  stand 
with  her  chin  high  in  the  air,  while  wave  after  wave  of 
color  swept  over  her  face. 

"Great  lovely  dove!"  ejaculated  Burrell,  fervently, 
staring  at  her. 

"Oh,  I— I  thought  you  were  Poleon.  He — "  In 
spite  cf  herself  she  glanced  towards  her  room  as  if  to 
flee;  she  writhed  at  the  utter  absurdity  of  her  ap 
pearance,  and  knew  the  Lieutenant  must  be  laughing  at 
her.  But  flight  would  only  make  it  worse,  so  she  stood 
as  she  was,  having  drawn  back  as  far  as  she  could,  till  the 
table  checked  her.  Burrell,  however,  was  not  laughing, 
nor  smiling  even,  for  his  embarrassment  rivalled  hers. 

"I  was  looking  for  your  father,"  he  said,  wondering 
if  this  glorious  thing  could  be  the  quaint  half-breed 
girl  of  yesterday.  There  was  nothing  of  the  native 
about  her  now,  for  her  lithe  young  figure  was  drawn 
up  to  its  height,  and  her  head,  upon  which  the 
long,  black  braids  were  coiled,  was  tipped  back  in 
a  haughty  poise.  She  had  flung  her  hands  out  to 
grasp  the  table  edge  behind  her,  forgetful  of  her  shswl, 
which  drooped  traitorously  and  showed  such  rounded 
lines  as  her  ordinary  dress  scarce  hinted  at.  This  was 
no  Indian  maid,  the  soldier  vowed;  no  blood  but  the 
purest  could  pulse  in  such  veins,  no  spirit  save  the 
highest  could  flash  in  such  eyes  as  these.  A  jealous 
rancor  irked  him  at  the  thought  of  this  beauty  intended 
for  the  Frenchman's  eyes. 

"Can't  you  show  yourself  to  me  as  well  as  to  Poleon  PH 
he  said. 


THE    BARRIER 

"Certainly  not!"  she  declared.  "He  bought  this 
dress  for  me,  and  I  put  it  on  to  please  him."  Now  she 
was  herself  again,  for  some  note  in  the  Lieutenant's 
voice  gave  her  dominance  over  him.  "After  he  sees  it 
I  will  take  it  off,  and—" 

"Don't— don't  take  it  off-^ver,"  said  Burrell.  "I 
thought  you  were  beautiful  Before,  because  of  your 
quaintness  and  simplicity,  but  now — "  his  chest  swelled 
— "why,  this  is  a  breath  from  home.  You're  like  my 
sister  and  the  girls  back  in  Kentucky,  only  more 
wonderful." 

"Am  I?"  she  cried,  eagerly.  "Am  I  like  other 
girls?  Do  I  really  look  as  if  I'd  always  worn  clothes 
like  these?" 

"Born  to  them,"  said  he. 

A  smile  broke  over  her  grave  face,  assuming  a  hun 
dred  different  shades  of  pleasure  and  making  a  child 
of  her  on  the  instant;  all  her  reserve  and  hauteur  van 
ished.  Her  warmth  and  unaffected  frankness  suffused 
him,  as  she  stood  out,  turning  to  show  the  beauties  of 
her  gown,  her  brown  hands  fluttering  tremulously  as 
she  talked. 

"It's  my  first  party-dress,  you  know,  and  I'm  as 
proud  of  it  as  Molly  is  of  her  rubber  boots.  It's  too 
big  in  here  and  too  small  right  there;  that  girl  must 
have  had  a  bad  chest;  but  otherwise  it  fits  me  as  if 
it  had  been  made  for  me,  doesn't  it  ?  And  the  shoes! 
Aren't  they  the  dearest  things?  See."  She  held  her 
skirts  back,  showing  her  two  feet  side  by  side,  her 
dainty  ankles  slim  and  shapely  in  their  silk. 

"They  won't  shed  water."  he  said. 

"I  know;  and  look  at  the  heels.  I  couldn't  walk 
a  mile  to  save  my  life." 

"And  tney  will  come  off  if  they  get  wet.w 

42 


WITHOUT    BENEFIT    OF    CLERGY 

"But  they  make  me  very  tall." 

"They  don't  wear  as  well  as  moccasins."  Both 
laughed  delightedly  till  he  broke  in,  impulsively: 

"Oh,  girl,  don't  you  know  how  beautiful  you  are?" 

"Of  course  I  do!"  she  cried,  imitating  his  change  of 
voice;  then  added,  naively,  "That's  why  I  hate  to  take 
it  off." 

"Where  did  you  learn  to  wear  things  like  that?"  he 
questioned.  "Where  did  you  get  that  —  well  —  that 
air?" 

"It  seems  to  me  I've  always  known.  There's  noth 
ing  strange  about  it.  The  buttons  and  the  hooks  and 
the  eyes  are  all  where  they  belong.  It's  instinct,  I 
suppose,  from  father's  side — " 

"Probably.  I  dare  say  I  should  understand  the 
mechanism  of  a  dress-suit,  even  if  I'd  never  seen  one," 
said  the  man,  amused,  yet  impressed  by  her  argument. 

"I've  always  had  visions  of  women  dressed  in  this 
land  of  clothing,  white  women — never  natives — not 
dressed  like  this  exactly,  but  in  dainty,  soft  things, 
not  at  all  like  the  ones  I  wear.  I  seem  to  have  a  mem 
ory,  although  it's  hardly  that,  either — it's  more  like  a 
dream — as  if  I  were  somebody  else.  Father  says  it  is 
from  reading  too  much." 

41 A  memory  of  what?" 

"It's  too  vague  and  tantalizing  to  tell  what  it  is, 
except  that  I  should  be  called  Merridy." 

"Merridy?     Why  that?" 

"I'll  show  you.  See."  She  slipped  her  hand  in 
side  the  shawl  and  drew  from  her  breast  a  thin  gold 
chain  on  which  was  strung  a  band  ring.  "It  was 
grandmother's — that's  where  I  got  the  fancy  for  the 
name  of  Merridy,  I  suppose." 

"May  I  look?" 

43 


THE    BARRIER 

?'0f  course.  But  I  daren't  take  it  off.  I  haven't 
had  it  off  my  neck  since  I  was  a  baby."  She  held  it 
out  for  him  to  examine,  and,  although  it  brought  his 
head  close  to  hers,  there  was  no  trace  of  coquetry  in 
the  invitation.  He  read  the  inscription,  "From  Dan 
to  Merridy,"  but  had  no  realization  of  what  it  meant, 
for  he  glimpsed  the  milk-white  flesh  almost  at  his  lips, 
and  felt  her  breath  stirring  his  hair,  while  the  delicate 
scent  of  her  person  seemed  to  loose  every  strong  emo 
tion  in  him.  She  was  so  dainty  and  yet  so  virile,  so 
innocent  and  yet  so  wise,  so  cold  and  yet  so  pulsating. 

"It  is  very  pretty,"  he  said, inanely. 

At  the  look  in  his  eyes  as  he  raised  his  head  her  own 
widened,  and  she  withdrew  from  him  imperceptibly, 
dismissing  him  with  a  mere  inflection. 

"I  wish  you  would  send  Poleon  here.  It's  time  he 
saw  his  present." 

As  Burrell  walked  out  into  the  air  he  shut  his  jaws 
grimly  and  muttered:  "Hold  tight,  young  man.  She's 
not  your  kind — she's  not  your  kind." 

Inside  the  store  he  found  Doret  and  the  trader  in  con 
versation  with  a  man  he  had  not  met  before,  a  ragged 
nondescript  whose  overalls  were  blue  and  faded  and 
patched,  particularly  on  the  front  of  the  legs  above 
the  knees,  where  a  shovel-handle  wears  hardest;  whose 
coat  was  of  yellow  mackinaw,  the  sleeves  worn  thin 
below  the  elbows,  where  they  had  rubbed  against  his 
legs  in  his  work.  As  the  soldier  entered,  the  man 
turned  on  him  a  small,  shrewd,  weather-beaten  face 
with  one  eye,  while  he  went  on  talking  to  Gale. 

"It  ain't  nothin'  to  git  excited  over,  but  it's  wuth 
follerin'.  If  I  wasn't  so  cussed  unlucky  I'd  know 
there  was  a  pay  streak  som'ere  close  by." 

"Your  luck  is  bound  to  change,  Lee,"  said  the 

44 


WITHOUT    BENEFIT    OF    CLERGY 

trader,  who  helped  him  to  roll  up  a  pack  of  provi 
sions. 

"Mebbe  so.  Who's  the  dressmaker?"  He  jerked 
his  bushy  head  towards  Burrell,  who  had  stopped  at 
the  front  door  with  Poleon  to  examine  some  yellow 
grains  in  a  folded  paper. 

"He's  the  boss  soldier." 

"Purty,  ain't  he?" 

"If  you  ain't  good  he'll  get  you,"  said  Gale,  a  trifle 
cynically,  at  which  Lee  chuckled. 

"I  reckon  there's  several  of  us  in  camp  that  ain't 
been  a  whole  lot  too  good,"  said  he.  "Has  he  tried  to 
git  anybody  yet?" 

"No,  but  he's  liable  to.  What  would  happen  if  h« 
did  ?  Suppose,  for  instance,  he  went  after  you — or  me  ?" 

The  one-eyed  man  snorted  derisively.  "It  ain't 
wuth  consider^' !" 

"Why  not?"  insisted  Gale,  guardedly.  "Maybe 
I've  got  a  record — you  don't  know." 

"If  you  have,  don't  tell  me  nothin'  about  it,"  hastily 
observed  Lee.  "  I'm  a  God-fearin'  citizen  myself,  lean- 
in*  ever  towards  peace  and  quietudes,  but  what's  past 
is  dead  and  gone,  and  I'd  hate  to  see  a  lispin'  child 
like  that  blue-and-yeller  party  try  to  reezureck  it." 

"He's  got  the  American  army  to  back  him  up — at 
least  five  of  them." 

"Five  agin  a  hundred.  He  aims  to  overawe  us, 
don't  he?"  snickered  the  unregenerate  Lee,  but  his 
wrinkles  changed  and  deepened  as  he  leaned  acros* 
the  counter  confidentially. 

"You  say  the  word,  John,  and  I'll  take  some  feller 
along  to  help  me,  and  we'll  transfer  this  military  post. 
There's  plenty  that  would  like  the  job  if  you  give  the 
wink." 

45 


THE    BARRIER 

"Pshaw!  I'm  just  supposing,"  said  the  trader. 
*'As  long  as  they  play  around  and  drill  and  toot  that 
horn,  and  don't  bother  anybody,  I  allow  they're  not 
in  the  way." 

"All  right!  It's  up  to  you.  However,  if  I  happen 
to  leap  down  on  this  pay  streak  before  it  sees  me  comin't 
I'm  goin'  to  put  my  friends  in  first  and  foremost,  and 
shut  out  these  dressmakers  complete.  So  long!"  He 
thrust  his  arms  beneath  the  legs  of  a  new  pair  of  blue 
overalls  that  formed  his  pack-straps,  wriggled  the  bur 
den  comfortably  into  place  between  his  shoulders,  and 
slouched  out  past  Doret,  to  whom  he  nodded,  ignoring 
the  "dressmaker." 

Having  given  Necia's  message  to  Poleon,  the  Lieu 
tenant  took  up  his  business  with  the  trader.  It  con 
cerned  the  purchase  of  certain  supplies  that  had  been 
omitted  from  the  military  outfit,  and  when  this  was 
concluded  he  referred  to  the  encounter  of  that  morning. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  think  I  bungle  everything  in 
that  manner,"  he  said,  "for  I  don't.  I  want  to  work 
with  you,  and  I  want  to  be  friends  with  you." 

"I'm  willing,"  said  Gale. 

"Nobody  dislikes  playing  policeman  more  than  I 
do,  but  it's  a  part  of  my  duty,  and  I'll  have  to  do  it," 
continued  the  young  man. 

"I  reckon  you  simply  aim  to  keep  peace,  eh?  You 
ain't  lookin'  for  nobody  in  particular?" 

"Of  course  not — outside  of  certain  notorious  crimi 
nals  who  have  escaped  justice  and  worked  north." 

"Then  there  is  a  few  that  you  want,  eh?" 

"Yes,  certain  old-timers.  The  officers  at  every 
post  have  descriptions  of  a  few  such,  and  if  they  show 
tip  we  will  take  them  in  and  hold  them  till  courts  are 
established." 

46 


WITHOUT    BENEFIT    OF    CLERGY 

"If  you've  got  their  names  and  descriptions,  mebbe 
I  could  help  you,"  said  the  trader,  carelessly. 

"Thank  you,  I'll  bring  up  the  list  and  we'll  go  over 
it  together.  You  must  have  been  here  a  good  while." 

"About  ten  years." 

"Then  Miss  Necia  was  born  out  in  the  States?" 

Gale  shot  a  startled  glance  at  the  soldier  before  he 
answered  in  the  affirmative,  but  Burrell  was  studying 
a  pattern  of  sunlight  on  the  floor  and  did  not  observe 
him.  A  moment  later  he  inquired,  hesitatingly: 

"Is  this  your  first  marriage,  Mr.  Gale?"  "When 
the  other  did  not  answer,  he  looked  up  and  quickly 
added: 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  What  led  me  to  ask  was 
Miss  Necia — she  is  so — well — she  is  such  a  remarkable 
girl." 

Gale's  face  had  undergone  a  change,  but  he  answered, 
quietly: 

"I  'ain't  never  been  married." 

"What?" 

"When  I  took  Alluna  it  wasn't  the  style,  and  neither 
one  of  us  has  thought  much  about  it  since." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  exclaimed  Burrell,  hurriedly.  "I'll 
bring  that  list  with  me  the  first  time  I  think  about  it," 
and,  nodding  amiably,  he  sauntered  out  But  his 
mind  was  in  a  whirl,  and  even  after  he  had  reached 
his  quarters  he  found  himself  repeating: 

" The  other  was  bad  enough.  Poor  little  girl!  Poor 
little  girl!" 

Gale  likewise  left  the  store  and  went  into  his  house, 
the  odd  look  still  strong  in  his  eyes,  to  find  Necia  posing 
in  her  new  regalia  for  Poleon's  benefit.  At  sight  of 
her  he  fell  into  a  strange  and  unexpected  humor,  and 
to  their  amazement  commanded  her  roughly  to  take 

47 


THE    BARRIER 

tiie  things  ofL  His  voice  and  manner  were  harsh  and 
at  utter  variance  with  any  mood  he  had  ever  displayed 
before;  nor  would  he  explain  his  unreasoning  fury,  but 
strode  out  again,  leaving  her  in  tears  and  the  French 
man  staring. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THB   SOLDIER    FINDS   AN    UNTRODDEN  VALLEY 

DURING  the  weeks  that  followed  Meade  Burrell 
saw  much  of  Necia.  At  first  he  had  leaned  on 
the  excuse  that  he  wanted  to  study  the  curious 
Ireak  of  heredity  she  presented;  but  that  wore  out 
quickly,  and  he  let  himself  drift,  content  with  the 
pleasure  of  her  company  and  happy  in  the  music  of 
her  laughter.  Her  quick  wit  and  keen  humor  delighted 
him,  and  the  mystery  ui  her  dark  eyes  seemed  to  hold 
the  poetry  and  beauty  of  all  the  red  races  that  lay 
behind  her  on  the  maternal  side.  At  times  he  thought 
of  her  as  he  had  seen  her  that  morning  in  the  dance- 
girl's  dress,  and  remembered  the  purity  of  neck  and 
breast  it  had  displayed,  but  he  attributed  that  to  the 
same  prank  of  heritage  that  had  endowed  her  with 
other  traits  alien  to  her  mother's  race, 

He  had  experienced  a  profound  sense  of  pity  for  her 
upon  learning  her  father's  relation  to  Alluna,  but  this 
also  largely  vanished  when  he  found  that  the  girl  was 
entirely  oblivious  to  its  significance.  He  had  tried  her 
in  many  subtle  ways,  and  found  that  she  regarded  the 
matter  innocently,  as  customary,  and  therefore  in  the 
light  of  an  accepted  convention;  nor  did  she  seem  to 
nee  anything  in  her  blood  or  station  to  render  her  in 
ferior  to  other  women.  She  questioned  him  tirelessly 
about  his  sister r  and  he  was  glaa  of  this,  for  It  placed 

49 


THE    BARRIER 

no  constraint  between  them.  So  that,  as  he  explored 
her  many  quaint  beliefs  and  pagan  superstitions,  the 
delight  of  being  with  her  grew,  and  he  ceased  to  reason 
whither  it  might  lead  him. 

As  for  her,  each  day  brought  a  keener  delight.  She 
unfolded  before  the  Kentuckian  like  some  beautiful 
woodland  flower,  and  through  innumerable,  unnoticed 
familiarities  took  him  into  her  innermost  confidence, 
sharing  with  him  those  girlish  hopes  and  beliefs  and 
aspirations  she  had  never  voiced  till  now. 

A  month  of  this  went  by,  and  then  Runnion  returned. 
He  came  on  an  up-going  steamer  which  panted  in  for 
a  rest  from  its  thousand-mile  climb,  and  for  breath  to 
continue  its  fight  against  the  never-tiring  sweep  of 
waters.  The  manner  of  his  coming  was  bold,  for  he 
stood  fairly  upon  the  ship's  deck,  staring  at  the  grow 
ing  picture  of  the  town,  as  ht>  had  watched  it  recede 
a  month  before,  and  his  smile  was  evil  now,  as  it  had 
been  then.  With  him  was  a  stranger.  When  the  boat 
was  at  rest  Runnion  sauntered  down  the  gang-plank 
and  up  to  the  Lieutenant,  who  stood  above  the  landing- 
place,  and  who  noted  that  the  scarf  close  up  against 
his  hat -band,  was  scarce  healed.  He  accosted  the 
officer  with  an  insolent  assurance0 

**Wellt  Fm  back  again,  you  see,  and  I'm  back  to 
stay." 

"Very  well,  Runnion;  did  you  bring  an  outfit  with 
you  ?"  The  young  man  addressed  him  civilly ,  although 
he  felt  that  the  fellow's  presence  was  a  menace  and 
would  lead  to  trouble. 

"Yes,  and  I'm  pretty  fat  besides.**  He  shook  a 
well-laden  gold-sack  at  the  officer,  "I  reckon  I  can 
rustle  thirteen  dollars  a  month  most  anywhere,  if  I 'en 
left  alone." 

50 


AN    UNTRODDEN    VALLEY 

"What  do  you  want  in  this  place,  anyhow?"  de 
manded  Burrell,  curiously. 

"None  of  your  damned  business,"  the  man  answered, 
grinning 

"Be  sure  it  isn't,"  retorted  the  Lieutenant,  "be 
cause  it  would  please  me  right  down  to  the  ground  if 
it  were.  I'd  like  to  get  you." 

"I'm  glad  we  understand  each  other,"  Runnion 
said,  and  turned  to  oversee  the  unloading  of  his 
freight,  falling  into  conversation  with  the  stranger, 
who  had  been  surveying  the  town  without  leaving  the 
boat.  Evidently  this  man  had  a  voice  in  Runnion 's 
affairs,  for  he  not  only  gave  him  instructions,  but 
bossed  the  crew  who  handled  his  merchandise,  and 
Meade  Burrell  concluded  that  he  must  be  some  incom 
ing  tenderfoot  who  had  grub-staked  the  desperado  to 
prospect  in  the  hills  back  of  Flambeau.  As  the  two 
came  up  past  him  he  saw  that  he  was  mistaken — 
this  man  was  no  more  of  a  tenderfoot  than  Runnion; 
on  the  contrary,  he  had  the  bearing  of  one  to  whom 
new  countries  are  old,  who  had  trod  the  edge  of  things 
all  his  life.  There  was  a  hint  of  the  meat-eating  animal 
about  him;  his  nose  was  keen  and  hawklike,  his  walk 
and  movements  those  of  the  predatory  beast,  and  as 
he  passed  by,  Burrell  observed  that  his  eyes  were 
of  a  peculiar  cruelty  that  went  well  with  his  thin 
lips.  He  was  older  by  far  than  Runnion,  but, 
while  the  latter  was  mean-visaged  and  swaggering, 
the  stranger's  manner  was  noticeable  for  its  repres 
sion 

Impelled  by  an  irresistible  desire  to  learn  something 
about  the  man,  the  Lieutenant  loitered  after  Runnion 
and  his  companion,  and  entered  the  store  in  time  to  see 
the  latter  greet  "No  Creek"  Lee,  the  prospector,  who 


THE    BARRIER 

had  come  into  town  for  more  food.     Both  men  spoke 
with  quiet  restraint. 

"Nine  years  since  I  saw  you,  Stark,"  said  the  miner. 
"Where  you  bound?" 

"The  diggings,"  replied  Stark,  as  Lee  addressed  the 
stranger. 

"Mining  now?" 

"No,  same  old  thing,  but  I'm  grub-staking  a  few 
men,  as  usual.  One  of  them  stays  here0  I  may  open 
a  house  in  Dawson  if  the  camp  is  as  good  as  they  say 
it  is." 

"This  here's  a  good  place  for  you." 

Stark  laughed  noiselessly  and  without  mirth.  "Fine! 
There  must  be  a  hundred  people  living  here." 

"Never  mind,  you  take  it  from  me,"  said  the  miner, 
positively,  "and  get  in  now  on  the  quiet.  There's 
something  doing."  His  one  sharp  eye  detected  the 
lieutenant  close  by,  so  he  drew  his  friend  aside  and 
began  talking  to  him  earnestly  and  with  such  evident 
effect  as  to  alter  Stark's  plans  on  the  moment ;  for  when 
Runnion  entered  the  store  shortly  Stark  spoke  to  him 
quickly,  following  which  they  both  hurried  back  to  the 
steamer  and  saw  to  the  unloading  of  much  additional 
freight  and  baggage.  From  the  volume  and  variety  of 
this  merchandise,  it  was  evident  that  Mr.  Stark  would 
in  no  wise  be  a  burden  to  the  community. 

Burrell  was  not  sufficiently  versed  in  the  ways  of  min 
ing-camps  to  know  exactly  what  this  abrupt  change  of 
policy  meant,  but  that  there  was  something  in  the  air 
he  knew  from  the  mysterious  manner  of  "No  Creek" 
Lee  and  from  the  suppressed  excitement  of  Doret  and 
the  trader.  His  curiosity  got  the  better  of  him  finally, 
and  he  fell  into  talk  with  Lee,  inquiring  about  the 
stranger  by  way  of  an  opening. 

52 


AN    UNTRODDEN    VALLEY 

"That's  Ben  Stark.  I  knew  him  back  in  the  Cassiar 
country,"  said  Lee. 

"Is  he  a  mining  man?" 

"Well,  summat.  He's  made  and  lost  a  bank-roll 
that  a  greyhound  couldn't  leap  over  in  the  mining 
business,  but  it  ain't  his  reg'lar  graft.  He  run  one 
of  the  biggest  places  in  the  Northwest  for  yeaid." 

"Saloon,  eh?" 

"Saloon  and  variety  house — seven  bartenders,  that's 
all.  He's  the  feller  that  killed  the  gold-commissioner. 
Of  course,  that  put  him  on  the  hike  again." 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,  he  had  a  record  as  long  as  a  sick  man's  drug 
bill  before  he  went  into  that  country,  and  when  he  put 
the  commissioner  away  them  Canadian  officials  went 
after  him  like  they  was  killin'  snakes,  and  it  cost  him 
all  he  had  made  to  get  clear.  If  it  had  happened 
across  the  line,  the  coroner's  jury  would  have  freed 
him,  'cause  the  commissioner  was  drunk  and  started 
the  row;  but  it  happened  right  in  Stark's  saloon,  and 
you  know  Canucks  is  stronger  than  vitriol  for  law  and 
order.  Not  bein*  his  first  offence,  it  went  hard  with 
him." 

"He  looks  like  a  killer,"  said  Burrell. 

"Yes,  but  he  ain't  the  common  kind.  He  always 
lets  the  other  man  begin,  and  therefore  he  ain't  never 
done  time." 

"Come,  now,"  argued  the  Lieutenant,  "if  it  were  the 
other  man  who  invariably  shot  first,  Stark  would  have 
been  killed  long  ago." 

"I  don't  care  what  would  have  happened,  it  *atn'l 
happened,  and  he's  got  notches  on  his  gun  till  it 
looks  like  a  cub  bear  had  chawed  it.  If  you  was  a 
Western  man  you'd  know  what  they  say  about  him. 

53 


THE    BARRIER 

?The  bullet  'ain't  been  run  to  kill  him.'  That's  the 
sayin'.  You  needn't  grin,  there's  many  a  better  man 
than  you  believes  it." 

"Who  is  it  that  the  bullet  hasn't  been  run  to  kill?" 
said  the  trader's  deep  voice  behind  them.  He  had 
finished  with  his  duties,  and  now  sauntered  forward. 

"Ben  Stark,"  said  Lee,  turning.  "You  know  him, 
John?" 

"No,  I  never  saw  him,  but  I  know  who  he  is — used 
to  hear  of  him  in  the  Coeur  d'Alenes." 

"That's  him  I  was  talking  to,"  said  the  miner. 
"He's  an  old  friend  of  mine,  and  he's  going  to  locate 
here." 

Burrell  thought  he  saw  Lee  wink  at  the  trader,  but 
he  was  not  sure,  for  at  that  moment  the  man  of  whom 
they  were  speaking  re-entered.  Lee  introduced  him, 
and  the  three  men  shook  hands.  While  the  soldier 
fell  into  easy  conversation  with  the  new-comer,  Gale 
gazed  at  him  narrowly,  studying  him  as  he  studied 
all  men  who  came  as  strangers.  As  he  was  doing  so 
Alluna  entered,  followed  by  Johnny  and  Molly.  She 
had  come  for  sugar,  and  asked  for  it  in  her  native 
tongue.  Upon  her  exit  Stark  broke  off  talking  to  the 
Lieutenant  and  turned  to  the  trader. 

"Your  squaw,  Mr0  Gale?" 

The  old  man  nodded. 

"Pah-Ute,  eh?" 

"Yes.     Why,  do  you  savvy  the  talk?" 

"Some.     I  lived  in  California  oncea" 

"Where?"    The  question  came  like  a  shot. 

"Oh,  here  and  there;  I  followed  the  Mother  Lode 
for  a  spell." 

"I  don't  recall  the  name,"  said  the  trader,  after  a 
bit. 

54 


AN    UNTRODDEN    VALLEY 

"Possibly.     Where  were  you  located?" 

"  I  never  lit  on  any  one  place  long  enough  to  call  ft 
home." 

It  seemed  to  Burrell  that  both  men  were  sparring 
cautiously  in  an  indirect,  impersonal  manner. 

"Those  yotir  kids,  too,  eh?"  Stark  continued. 

"Yes,  and  I  got  another  one  besides  —  older.  A 
girl." 

"She's  a  'pip,1  too,"  said  "No  Creek"  Lee,  fervently. 
"She's  plumb  beautiful." 

"All  of  them  half-breeds?"  questioned  Stark. 

"Sure."  The  trader's  answer  was  short,  and  when 
the  other  showed  no  intention  of  pressing  the  sub 
ject  further  he  sauntered  away;  but  no  sooner  was  he 
out  of  hearing  than  Stark  said:  "Humph!  They're 
all  alike." 

"Who?" 

"Squaw-men." 

"This  one  ain't,"  Lee  declared.  "He's  different; 
ain't  he,  Lieutenant?" 

"He  certainly  is,"  agreed  Burrell.  This  was  the 
first  criticism  he  had  heard  of  Necia's  father,  and  al 
though  Stark  volunteered  no  argument,  it  was  plain 
that  his  opinion  remained  unaffected. 

The  old  man  went  through  the  store  at  the  rear  and 
straightway  sought  Alluna.  Speaking  to  her  with  un 
wonted  severity  in  the  Pah-Ute  language,  he  said: 

"I  have  told  you  never  to  use  your  native  tongue 
before  strangers.  That  man  in  the  store  under 
stands." 

"I  only  asked  for  sugar  to  cook  the  berries  with," 
she  replied. 

"True,  but  another  time  you  might  say  more,  there 
fore  the  less  you  speak  it  the  better.  He  is  the  kind 
5  55 


THE    BARRIER 

who  sees  much  and  talks  little.  Address  me  in  Siwash 
or  in  English  unless  we  are  alone/' 

"I  do  not  like  that  man,"  said  the  woman.  "His 
eyes  are  bad,  like  a  fish  eagle's,  and  he  has  no 
heart." 

Suddenly  she  dropped  her  work  and  came  close  up 
to  him.  "Can  he  be  the  one?" 

"I  don't  know.  Stark  is  not  the  name,  but  he 
might  have  changed  it;  he  had  reasons  enough." 

"Who  is  this  man  Stark?" 

"I  don't  know  that,  either.  I  used  to  hear  of  him 
when  I  was  in  British  Columbia." 

"But  surely  you  must  know  if  he  is  the  same — she 
must  have  told  you  how  he  looked — others  must  have 
told  you—" 

Gale  shook  his  head.  "Very  little.  I  could  not  ask 
her,  and  others  knew  him  so  well  they  never  doubted 
that  I  had  seen  him;  but  this  much  I  do  know,  he  was 
dark—" 

"This  man  is  dark — " 

" — and  his  spirit  was  like  that  of  a  mad  horse — " 

"This  man's  temper  is  black — " 

" — and  his  eyes  were  cruel." 

"This  man  has  evil  eyes." 

"He  lacked  five  years  of  my  age,"  said  the  trader. 

"This  man  is  forty  years  old.  It  must  be  he,"  said 
the  squaw. 

Even  Necia  would  have  marvelled  had  she  heard 
this  revelation  of  her  father's  age,  for  his  hair  and 
brows  were  grizzled,  and  his  face  had  the  look  of  a 
man  of  sixty,  while  only  those  who  knew  him  well,  like 
Doret,  were  aware  of  his  great  strength  and  the  endur- 
that  belied  his  appearance. 

"We  will  send  Necia  down  to  the  Mission  to-night, 

56 


AN    UNTRODDEN    VALLEY 

and  let  Father  Barnum  keep  her  there  till  this  man 
goes,"  said  the  squaw,  after  some  deliberation. 

"No,  she  must  stay  here,"  Gale  replied,  with  de 
cision.  "The  man  has  come  here  to  live,  so  it  won't 
do  any  good  to  send  her  away,  and,  after  all,  what  is  to 
be  will  be.  But  she  must  never  be  seen  in  that  dance- 
girl's  dress  again,  at  least,  not  till  I  learn  more  about 
this  Stark.  It  makes  no  difference  whether  this  one  is 
the  man  or  not;  he  will  come  and  I  shall  know  him. 
For  a  year  I  have  felt  that  the  time  was  growing  short, 
and  now  I  know  it." 

"No,  no!"  Alluna  cried;  "we  have  no  strangers 
here.  No  white  men  except  the  soldiers  and  this 
one  have  come  in  a  year.  This  is  but  a  little  trading- 
post." 

"It  was  yesterday,  but  it  isn't  to-day.  Lee  has 
made  a  strike — like  the  one  George  Carmack  made  on 
the  Klondike.  He  came  to  tell  me  and  Poleon,  and 
we  are  going  back  with  him  to-night,  but  you  must 
say  nothing  or  it  will  start  a  stampede." 

"Other  men  will  come — a  great  many  of  them?" 
interrogated  Alluna,  fearfully,  ignoring  utterly  the  mo 
mentous  news. 

"Yes.  Flambeau  will  be  another  Dawson  if  this 
find  is  what  Lee  thinks  it  is.  I  stayed  away  from  the 
Upper  Country  because  I  knew  crowds  of  men  would 
come  from  the  States,  and  I  feared  that  he  might  be 
among  them;  but  it's  no  use  hiding  any  longer,  there's 
no  other  place  for  us  to  go.  If  Lee  has  got  a  mine, 
I'll  have  the  one  next  to  it,  for  we  will  be  the  first  ones 
on  the  ground.  What  happens  after  that  won't  mat 
ter  much,  you  four  will  be  provided  for.  We  are  to 
leave  in  an  hour,  one  at  a  time,  to  avoid  comment." 

"But  why  did  this  man  stop  here?"  insisted  the 

57 


THE    BARRIER 

woman.  "Why  did  he  not  stay  on  the  steamboat 
and  go  to  Dawson?" 

"He's  a  friend  of  Lee's.  He  is  going  with  us.M 
Then  he  added,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "Before  we  re 
turn  I  shall  know." 

Alluna  seized  his  arm.  "Promise  to  come  back, 
John!  Promise  that  you  will  come  back  even  if  this 
should  be  the  man." 

"I  promise.  Don't  worry,  lift  ^  woman;  I'm  not 
ready  for  a  reckoning  yet." 

He  gave  her  certain  instructions  about  the  store, 
charging  her  in  particular  to  observe  the  utmost  secrecy 
regarding  the  strike,  else  she  mi^v.t  precipitate  a  prema 
ture  excitement  which  would  go  far  towards  ruining  his 
and  Poleon's  chances.  All  of  which  she  noted;  then,  as 
he  turned  away,  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  said: 

"If  you  do  not  know  him  he  will  not  know  you.  Is 
it  not  so?." 

"Yes." 

"Then  the  rest  is  easy — " 

But  he  only  shook  his  head  doubtfully  and  answered, 
"Perhaps — I  am  not  sure,"  and  went  inside,  where 
he  made  up  a  light  pack  of  bacon,  flour  and  tea,  a  pail 
or  two,  a  coffee-pot  and  a  frying-pan,  which  he  rolled 
inside  a  robe  of  rabbit-skin  and  bound  about  in  turn 
with  a  light  tarpaulin.  It  did  not  weigh  thirty  pounds 
in  all.  Selecting  a  new  pair  of  water-boots,  he  stuffed 
dry  grass  inside  them,  oiled  up  his  six-shooter,  then 
slipped  out  the  back  way,  and  in  five  minutes  was  hid 
den  in  the  thickets.  Half  an  hour  later,  having  com 
pleted  a  detour  of  the  town,  he  struck  the  trail  to  the 
interior,  where  he  found  Poleon  Doret,  equipped  in  a 
similar  manner,  resting  beside  a  stream,  singing  the 
songs  of  his  people. 


AN    UNTRODDEN    VALLEY 

When  Burrell  returned  to  his  quarters  he  tried  to 
nt«ti^ate  the  feeling  of  lonesomeness  that  oppressed 
him  by  tackling  his  neglected  correspondence.  Some 
how,  to-day,  the  sense  of  his  isolation  had  come  over 
him  stronger  than  ever.  His  rank  forbade  any  in 
timacy  with  his  miserable  handful  of  men,  who  had 
already  fallen  into  the  monotony  of  routine,  while 
every  friendly  overture  he  mace  towards  the  citizens 
of  Flambeau  was  met  with  distrust  and  coldness,  his 
stripes  of  office  seeming  to  erect  a  barrier  and  induce 
an  ostracism  stronger  and  more  complete  than  if  they 
had  been  emblems  of  the  penitentiary.  He  began  to 
resent  it  keenly.  Even  Doret  and  the  trader  seemed 
to  share  the  general  feeling,  hence  the  thought  of  the 
long,  lonesome  winter  approaching  reduced  the  Lieu 
tenant  to  a  state  of  black  despondency,  deepened  by 
the  knowledge  that  he  now  had  an  open  enemy  in 
camp  in  the  person  of  Runnion.  Then,  too,  he  had 
taken  a  morbid  dislike  to  the  new  man,  Stark.  So 
that,  all  in  all,  the  youth  felt  he  had  good  reason  to  be 
in  the  dumps  this  afternoon.  There  was  nothing  de 
sirable  in  this  place — everything  undesirable — except 
Necia.  Her  presence  in  Flambeau  went  far  towards 
making  his  humdrum  existence  bearable,  but  of  late 
he  had  found  himself  dwelling  with  growing  serious 
ness  on  the  unhappy  circumstances  of  her  birth,  and 
had  almost  made  up  his  mind  that  it  would  be  wise 
not  to  see  her  any  more.  The  tempting  vision  of  her 
in  the  ball-dress  remained  vividly  in  his  imagination, 
causing  him  hours  of  sweet  torment.  There  was  a 
sparkle,  a  fineness,  a  gentleness  about  her  that  seemed 
to  make  the  few  women  he  had  known  well  dull  and 
commonplace,  and  even  his  sister,  whom  till  now  he 
had  held  as  the  perfection  of  all  things  feminine,  suf- 

59 


THE    BARRIER 

fered  by  comparison  with  this  maiden  of  the  fron 
tier. 

He  was  steeped  in  this  sweet,  grave  melancholy,  when 
a  knock  came  at  his  door,  and  he  arose  to  find  Necia 
herself  there,  excited  and  radiant.  She  came  in  with 
out  sign  of  embarrassment  or  slightest  consciousness  of 
the  possible  impropriety  of  her  act. 

"The  most  wonderful  thing  has  happened,"  she  be 
gan  at  once,  when  she  found  they  were  alone.  "  You'll 
faint  for  joy." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Nobody  knows  except  father  and  Poleon  and  the 
two  new  men — " 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  teased  the  news  out  of  mother,  and  then  came 
right  here." 

He  laughed.     "But  what— may  I  ask—" 

"Lee  has  made  a  strike — a  wonderful  strike — richer 
than  the  Klondike." 

"So?  The  old  man's  luck  has  changed.  I'm  right 
glad  of  that,"  said  the  soldier. 

"I  came  as  fast  as  I  could,  because  to-morrow 
everybody  will  know  about  it,  and  it  will  be  too 
late." 

"Too  late  for  what?" 

"For  us  to  get  in  on  it,  of  course.  Oh,  but  won't 
there  be  a  stampede!  Why,  all  the  people  bound  for 
Dawson  on  the  next  boat  will  pile  off  here,  then  the 
news  will  go  up-river  and  down-river,  and  thousands 
of  others  will  come  pouring  in  from  everywhere,  and 
this  will  be  a  city.  Then  we  will  stake  our  town  lots 
and  sell  them  for  ever  so  much  money,  and  go  around 
with  our  noses  in  the  air,  and  they  will  say  to  each 
.other. 

Oo 


AN    UNTRODDEN    VALLEY 

"'Who  is  that  beautiful  lady  with  the  fine  clothes?* 
and  somebody  will  answer: 

04 Why,  that  is  Miss  Necia  Gale,  the  mine-owner.' 
And  then  you  will  come  along,  and  they  will  say: 

"  'That  is  Lieutenant  Burrell,  the  millionaire,  and — ' " 

"Hold  on!  hold  on!"  said  the  soldier,  stopping  her 
breathless  patter.  "Tell  me  all  about  this." 

"Well,  'No  Creek*  came  in  this  morning  to  tell  dad 
<tnd  Poleon.  Then  the  boat  arrived  with  an  old  friend 
of  Lee's,  a  Mr.  Stark,  so  Lee  told  him,  too,  and  now 
they've  all  gone  back  to  his  creek  to  stake  more  claims. 
They  slipped  away  quietly  to  prevent  suspicion,  but 
I  knew  there  was  something  up  from  the  way  Poleon 
acted,  so  I  made  Alluna  tell  me  all  about  it.  They 
haven't  more  than  two  hours  start  of  us,  and  we  can 
overtake  them  easily." 

"We!     Why,  we  are  not  going?" 

"Yes,  we  are,"  she  insisted,  impatiently — "you  and 
I.  That's  why  I  came,  so  you  can  get  a  mine  for 
yourself  and  be  a  rich  man,  and  so  you  can  help  me 
get  one.  I  know  the  way.  Hurry  up!" 

"No,"  said  he,  in  as  firm  a  tone  as  he  could  com 
mand.  "In  the  first  place,  these  men  don't  like  me, 
and  they  don't  want  me  to  share  in  this." 

"What  do  you  care?" 

"In  the  second  place,  I'm  not  a  miner.  I  don't 
know  how  to  proceed." 

"Never  mind;  I  do.  I've  heard  nothing  but  mining 
all  my  life." 

"In  the  third  place,  I  don't  think  I  have  the  right, 
for  I'm  a  soldier.  I'm  working  for  Uncle  Sam,  and  I 
don't  believe  I  ought  to  take  up  mining  claims.  I'm 
not  sure  there  is  anything  to  prevent  it,  but  neither 
am  I  sure  it  would  be  quite  the  square  thing — are  you  ?" 

61 


THE    BARRIER 

?'Why,  of  course  it's  all  right,"  said  Necia,  her 
gager  face  clouding  with  the  look  of  a  hurt  child.  "If 
you  don't  do  it,  somebody  else  will." 

But  the  Lieutenant  shook  his  head.  "Maybe  I'm 
foolish,  but  I  can't  see  my  way  clear,  much  as  I  would 
like  to." 

" Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!"  she  exclaimed,  brokenly.  "I 
do  so  want  to  go.  I  want  you  to  be  rich,  and  I  want 
to  be  rich  myself.  I  want  to  be  a  fine  lady,  and  go 
outside  and  live  like  other  girls.  It's — the  only  chance 
— I  ever  had — and  I'll  never  have  another.  Oh,  it 
means  so  much  to  me;  it  means  life,  future,  every 
thing!  Why,  it  means  heaven  to  a  girl  like  me!"  Her 
eyes  were  wet  with  the  sudden  dashing  of  her  hopes, 
and  her  chin  quivered  in  a  sweet,  girlish  way  that  made 
the  youth  almost  surrender  on  the  instant.  But  she 
turned  to  the  window  and  gazed  out  over  the  river, 
continuing,  after  a  moment's  pause:  "Please  don't — 
mind  me  —  but  you  can't  understand  what  a  differ 
ence  this  would  make  to  me." 

"We  couldn't  possibly  overtake  them  if  we  tried," 
he  said,  as  if  willing  to  treat  with  his  conscience. 

"No,  but  we  could  beat  them  in.  I  know  where 
Lee  is  working,  for  I  went  up  last  winter  with  Con- 
stantine  and  his  dog-team,  over  a  short  cut  by  way 
of  Black  Bear  Creek.  We  took  it  coming  back,  and 
I  could  find  it  again,  but  Lee  doesn't  know  that  route, 
so  he  will  follow  the  summer  trail,  which  is  fifteen  miles 
farther.  You  see,  his  creek  makes  a  great  bend  to  the 
southward,  and  heads  back  towards  the  river,  so  by 
crossing  the  divide  at  the  source  of  Black  Bear  you 
drop  into  it  a  few  miles  above  his  cabin." 

While  she  made  this  appeal  Burrell  fought  with  him 
self.  There  were  reasons  why  he  longed  to  take  this 

62 


AN    UNTRODDEN    VALLEY 

trip,  more  than  he  had  longed  for  anything  since  boy 
hood.  These  men  of  Flambeau  had  disregarded  him, 
and  insisted  on  treating  him  with  contemptuous  dis 
trust,  despite  his  repeated  friendly  overtures;  where 
fore  he  was  hungry  to  beat  them  at  their  own  game, 
hungry  to  thrust  himself  ahead  of  them  and  compel 
them  to  reckon  with  him  as  an  equal,  preferring  a 
state  of  open  enmity,  if  necessary,  to  this  condition  of 
indifferent  toleration.  Moreover,  he  knew  that  Necia 
was  coveted  by  half  of  them,  and  if  he  spent  a  night 
in  the  woods  alone  with  her  it  would  stir  them  up  a 
bit,  he  fancied.  By  Heaven!  That  would  make  them 
sit  up  and  notice  him!  But  then — it  might  work  a 
wrong  upon  her;  and  yet,  would  it?  He  was  not  so 
sure  that  it  would.  She  had  come  to  him;  she  was 
old  enough  to  know  her  mind,  and  she  was  but  a  half- 
breed  girl,  after  all,  who  doubtless  was  not  so  simple 
as  she  seemed.  Other  men  had  no  such  scruples  in 
this  or  any  other  land,  and  yet  the  young  man  hesi 
tated  until,  encouraged  by  his  silence,  the  girl  came 
forward  and  spoke  again,  impulsively: 

"Don't  be  silly,  Mr.  Burrell.  Come!  Please  come 
with  me,  won't  you?" 

She  took  him  by  the  edges  of  his  coat  and  drew  him 
to  her  coaxingly.  It  may  have  been  partly  the  spirit 
of  revolt  that  had  been  growing  in  him  all  day,  or  it 
may  have  been  wholly  the  sense  of  her  there  beside 
him,  warm  and  pleading,  but  something  caused  a 
great  wave  to  surge  up  through  his  veins,  caused  him 
to  take  her  in  his  arms,  fiercely  kissing  her  upturned 
face  again  and  again,  crying  softly,  deep  down  in  his 
throat: 

"Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  You  little  witch?  I'll  go  any 
where  with  you!  Anywhere!  Anywhere!"  The  im- 

63 


THE    BARRIER 

pulse  was  blind  and  ungovernable,  and  it  grew  as  his 
Kps  met  hers,  while,  strangely  enough,  she  made  no 
resistance,  yielding  herself  quietly,  till  he  found  her 
arms  wound  softly  about  his  neck  and  her  face  nestling 
close  to  his.  Neither  of  them  knew  how  long  they 
stood  thus  blended  together,  but  soon  he  grew  con 
scious  of  the  beating  of  her  heart  against  his  breast, 
as  she  lay  there  like  a  little  fluttering  bird,  and  felt 
the  throbbing  of  his  own  heart  swaying  him.  Her 
arms,  her  lips,  and  her  whole  body  clung  to  his  in  a 
sweet  surrender,  and  yet  there  was  nothing  immodest 
or  unmaidenly  about  it,  for  his  strength  and  ardor  had 
lifted  her  and  drawn  her  to  him  as  on  the  sweep  of  a 
great  wave. 

She  drew  her  face  free  and  hid  it  against  his  neck, 
breathing  softly  and  with  shy  timidity,  as  if  the  sound 
of  the  words  she  whispered  half  frightened  her. 

"I  love  you.     I  love  you,  Meade." 

It  may  happen  that  a  man  will  spend  months  in 
friendly  and  charming  intimacy  with  a  woman  and 
never  feel  the  violence  or  tenderness  of  passion  till 
there  comes  a  psychic  moment  or  a  physical  touch 
that  suddenly  enwraps  them  like  a  flame.  So  it  was 
with  Burrell.  The  sweet  burden  of  this  girl  in  his 
arms,  the  sense  of  her  yielding  lips,  the  warmth  of  her 
caressing  hands,  momentarily  unleashed  a  leaping  pack 
of  mad  desires,  and  it  was  she  who  finally  drew  herself 
away  to  remind  him  smilingly  that  he  was  wasting 
time. 

"My  lips  will  be  here  when  those  mines  are  worked 
out,"  she  said.  "No,  no!"  and  she  held  him  off  as 
he  came  towards  her  again,  insisting  that  if  they 
were  going  they  must  be  off  at  once,  and  that  he 
could  have  no  more  kisses  for  the  present.  "But,  of 

64 


AN    UNTRODDEN    VALLEY 

course,  it  is  a  long  trip,  and  we  will  have  to  sit  down 
now  and  then  to  rest,"  she  added,  shyly;  at  which  he 
vowed  that  he  was  far  from  strong,  and  could  not  walk 
but  a  little  way  at  a  time,  yet  even  so,  he  declared,  the 
trail  would  be  too  short,  even  though  it  led  to  Canada. 

"Then  get  your  pack  made  up,"  she  ordered,  "for 
we  must  be  well  up  towards  the  head  of  Black  Bear 
Creek  before  it  grows  dark  enough  to  camp." 

Swiftly  he  made  his  preparations;  a  madness  was 
upon  him  now,  and  he  took  no  pains  to  check  or 
analyze  the  reasons  for  his  decision.  The  thought  of 
her  loveliness  in  his  arms  once  more,  far  up  among  the 
perfumed  wooded  heights,  as  the  silent  darkness  stole 
upon  them,  stirred  in  him  such  a  fret  to  be  gone  that 
it  was  like  a  fever.  He  slipped  away  to  the  barracks 
with  instructions  for  his  corporal,  but  was  back  again 
in  a  moment.  Finally  he  took  up  his  burden  of  blanket 
and  food,  then  said  to  her: 

"Well,  are  you  ready,  little  one?" 

"Yes,  Meade,"  she  answered,  simply. 

"And  you  are  sure  you  won't  regret  it?" 

"Not  while  you  love  me." 

He  kissed  her  again  before  they  stepped  out  on  the 
river  trail  that  wound  along  the  bank.  A  hundred 
yards  beyond  they  were  hidden  by  the  groves  of  birch 
and  fir. 

Two  hours  later  they  paused  where  the  foaming 
waters  of  Black  Bear  Creek  rioted  down  across  a 
gravelled  bar  and  into  the  silent,  sweeping  river,  stand 
ing  at  the  entrance  to  a  wooded,  grass-grown  valley, 
with  rolling  hills  and  domes  displayed  at  its  head, 
while  back  of  them  lay  the  town,  six  miles  away,  its 
low,  squat  buildings  tiny  and  toylike,  but  distinctly 
silhouetted  against  the  evening  sky. 

65 


THE    BARRIER 

"Is  it  not  time  to  rest  ?"  said  the  soldier,  laughingly, 
yet  with  a  look  of  yearning  in  his  misty  eyes  as  he  took 
the  girlish  figure  in  his  arms.  But  she  only  smiled  up 
at  him  and,  releasing  his  hold,  led  the  way  into  the 
forest. 

He  turned  for  a  moment  and  shook  his  fist  at  the 
village  and  those  in  it,  laughing  loudly  as  if  from  the 
feel  of  the  blood  that  leaped  within  him.  Then  he 
joined  his  companion,  and,  hand-in-hand,  they  left  the 
broad  reaches  of  the  greater  stream  behind  them  and 
plunged  into  the  untrodden  valley. 


CHAPTER  V 

A    STORY    IS    BEGUN 

"It's  fonny  t'ing  how  two  bran    (*$, 
Was  changin'  everything — 
De  cloud  she's  no  more  ou  de  skyt 
An'  winter's  jus1  lak    tpring. 
Dey  mak'  my  pad*  *o  very  light, 
De  trail,  she'r  not  so  long — 
I'd  walk  it  t'orty  mile  to-night 
For  heir  ker  sing  wan  song. 
Bui  now  I'm  busy  mak'  fortune 
'for  marry  on  dat  girl, 
An'  t|  she's  tole  me  yass,  dat's  soon, 
Bonheur!  I'm  own  de  worV '/** 

POLEON  DORET  sang  gayly  as  the  trader  came 
towards  him  through  the  open  grove  of  birch,  for 
he  was  happy  this  afternoon,  and,  being  much  of  a 
dreamer,  this  fresh  enterprise  awoke  in  him  a  boyish 
pleasure.  Then  Necia  had  teased  him  as  he  came 
away,  and  begged  him,  as  was  always  her  custom,  to 
take  her  with  him,  no  matter  whence  or  whither,  so 
long  as  there  was  adventure  afoot.  Well,  it  would  not 
be  long  now  before  he  could  say  yes,  and  he  would 
take  her  on  a  journey  far  longer  than  either  of  them 
had  yet  taken — a  journey  that  would  never  end.  Had 
not  the  gods  looked  with  favor,  at  last,  upon  his  long 
novitiate,  and  been  pleased  with  the  faith  he  had 
kept?  Had  not  this  discovery  of  "No  Creek"  Lee's 

67 


THE    BARRIER 

been  providentially  arranged  for  his  own  especial 
benefit?  A  fool  could  see  that  this  was  a  mark  of 
celestial  approbation,  and  none  but  a  fool  would  ques 
tion  the  wisdom  of  the  gods.  Had  he  not  watched 
the  girl  grow  from  a  slip  of  thirteen  and  spoken  never 
a  word  of  his  love?  Had  he  not  served  and  guarded 
her  with  all  the  gentle  chivalry  of  an  olden  knight? 
Of  course!  And  here  was  his  reward,  a  gift  of  wealth 
to  crown  his  service,  all  for  her.  Now  that  she  was  a 
woman,  anL.  had  seen  him  tried,  and  knew  he  was  a 
man,  he  would  bring  his  burden  of  prosperity  and  lay 
it  at  her  feet,  saying: 

"Here  is  another  offering,  my  Necia,  and  with  it  go 
the  laughter  and  the  music  and  the  heart  of  Poleon 
Doret." 

Sacre*!  It  would  not  take  her  long  to  wake  up 
after  that!  The  world  was  very  bright  indeed  this 
afternoon,  and  he  burst  again  into  song  in  company 
with  the  voices  of  the  forest  people: 

"Chanti,  rossignol,  chant£t 

Toi  qui  a  le  cceur  gai ; 

Tu  as  le  coeur  a  rire 

Mai  f  V  ai-t-a  pleurer, 

II  y  a  longtemps  que  f  faim6 
Jamais  je  ne  t'oublierai" l 

"Whew!"  said  Gale,  slipping  out  of  his  pack-stmpSi 
"the  skeeters  is  bad." 

**'Sing,  little  bird,  oh,  sing  away! 

You  with  the  voice  so  light  and  gay! 
Vours  is  a  heart  that  laughter  cheers, 
Mine  is  a  heart  that's  full  of  tears. 

Long  have  I  loved,  I  love  her  yefcg 
Leave  her  I  can,  but  not  forget."* 
€8 


A    STORY    IS    BEGUN 

"You  bet  your  gum  boots,"  said  Poleon.  "Dey're 
mos'  so  t'ick  as  de  summer  dey  kill  Johnnie  Platt  on 
de  Porcupine."  Both  men  wore  gauntleted  gloves  of 
oaribou-sku.  and  head  harnesses  of  mosquito-netting 
stretched  over  gi^belike  frames  of  thin  steel  bands, 
which  they  slipped  on  over  their  hats  after  the  manner 
of  divers'  helmets,  for  without  protection  of  some  kind 
the  insects  would  have  made  travel  impossible  once 
the  Yukon  breezes  were  left  behind  or  once  the  trail 
dipped  from  the  high  divides  where  there  was  no 
moss. 

"Let's  see.  It  was  you  that  found  him,  wasn't  it?" 
said  Gale. 

"Sure  t'ing!  I'm  comin*  down  for  grub  in  my 
oanoe,  w'en  I  see  dis  feller  on  de  bank,  walkin'  lak'  he's 
in  beeg  horry.  *  Ba  Gar!'  I  say,  '  dere's  man  goin'  so 
fast  he'll  meet  hese'f  comin'  home!'  Den  he  turn  roun' 
an*  go  tearin'  back,  wavin'  hees  arms  lak'  he's  callin* 
me,  till  he  fall  down.  W'en  I  paddle  close  up,  I  don* 
know  'im  no  more  dan  stranger,  an*  me  an'  Johnnie 
Platt  is  trap  togeder  wan  winter.  Wat  you  t'ink  of 
dat?" 

"I  saw  a  fellow  killed  that  way  at  Holy  Cross,"  in 
terpolated  the  trader. 

"'Hello/  I  say,  'w'at's  de  matter?'  An1  den  I  see 
somet'ing  'bout  'im  dat  look  familiar.  Hees  face  she's 
all  swell'  up  an'  bleed' n'  lak'  raw  meat."  The  French 
man  curled  his  upper  lip  back  from  his  teeth  and  shook 
his  head  at  the  remembrance. 

"Jesu,  dat's  'orrible  sight!  Dem  fly  is  drive  *im 
crazee.  Hees  nose  an'  ears  is  look  lak'  holes  in  beeg 
red  sponge,  an'  hees  eye  are  close  up  tight." 

"He  died  before  you  got  him  in,  didn't  he?" 

"Yes.  He  was  good  man,  too.  Some  tarn*  if  I  ever 

6g 


THE    BARRIER 

have  bad  enemy  w'at  I  like  to  see  catch  hell  I'm  goin* 
turn  'im  loose  'mong  dose  skeeter-bug. " 

"Holy  Mackinaw!"  ejaculated  Gale.  "Who'd  ever 
think  of  that  ?  Why,  that's  worse  than  dropping  water 
on  his  skull  till  he  goes  crazy,  like  them  Chinamen  do.'* 

The  Frenchman  nodded.  "It's  de  wors*  t'ing  I 
know.  Dat's  w'y  I  lak*  to  geeve  it  to  my  enemy." 

"  Imagine  fightin'  the  little  devils  till  they  stung  you 
crazy  and  pizened  your  eyes  shut!" 

Gale  fell  to  considering  this,  while  Poleon  filled  his 
pipe,  and,  raising  his  veil,  undertook  to  smoke.  The 
pests  proved  too  numerous,  however,  and  forced  him 
to  give  it  up. 

"Ba  gosh!     Dey're  hongry!" 

"It  will  be  all  right  when  we  get  out  of  the  woods," 
said  the  elder  man. 

"I  guess  you  been  purty  glad  for  havin*  Necia 
home  again,  eh?"  ventured  the  other  after  a  while, 
unable  tc  avoid  any  longer  the  subject  uppermost  in 
his  mind. 

"Yes,  I'm  glad  she's  through  with  her  schooling." 

"She's  gettin'  purty  beeg  gal  now." 

"That's  right." 

"By -an* -by  she's  goin*  marry  on  some  feller  — 
w'at?" 

"I  suppose  so.     She  ain't  the  kind  to  stay  single.** 

"Ha!  Dat's  right,  too.  Mebbe  you  don*  care  if 
she  does  get  marry,  eh?" 

"N->t  if  she  gets  a  man  that  will  treat  her  right." 

"Wai!  Wai!  Dere's  no  trouble  'bout  dac,"  ex 
claimed  Doret,  fervently.  "No  man  w'at's  livin' could 
treat  her  bad.  She's  too  good  an'  too  purty  for  have 
bad  husban'." 

"  She  is,  is  she  ?"'  Gale  turned  on  him  with  a  strang* 

70 


A    STORY    IS    BEGUN 

glare  in  his  eyes.  "Them's  the  kind  that  get  the 
he-devils.  There's  something  about  a  good  girl  that 
attracts  a  bad  man,  particularly  if  she's  pretty;  and 
it  goes  double,  too  —  the  good  men  get  the  hellions. 
A  fellow  can't  get  so  tough  but  what  he  can  catch  a 
good  woman,  and  a  decent  man  usually  draws  a  critter 
that  looks  like  a  sled  and  acts  like  a  timber  wolf." 

"Necia  wouldn't  marry  on  no  bad  man,"  said  Doret, 
positively. 

"No?"  said  Gale.  "Let  me  tell  you  what  I  saw 
with  my  own  eyes.  I  knew  a  girl  once  that  was  just 
as  good  and  pure  as  Necia,  and  just  as  pretty,  too — 
yes,  and  a  thousand  times  prettier." 

"Ho,  ho!"  laughed  Doret,  sceptically. 

"She  was  an  Eastern  girl, and  she  come  West  where 
men  were  different  to  what  she'd  been  used  to.  Those 
were  early  days,  and  it  was  a  new  country,  where  a 
person  didn't  know  much  about  his  neighbor's  past 
and  cared  less;  and,  although  there  were  a  heap  of 
girls  thereabouts,  they  were  the  kind  you'll  always 
find  in  such  communities,  while  this  one  was  plumb 
different.  Man!  Man!  But  she  was  different.  She 
was  a  woman!  Two  fellows  fell  in  love  with  her.  One 
of  them  lived  in  the  same  camp  as  her,  and  he  was  a 
good  man,  leastways  everybody  said  he  was,  but  he 
wasn't  wise  to  all  the  fancy  tricks  that  pretty  women 
banker  after;  and,  it  being  his  first  affair,  he  was  right 
down  buffaloed  at  the  very  thought  of  her,  so  he  just 
hung  around  and  slept  late  so  that  he  might  dream 
about  her  and  feel  like  he  was  her  equal  or  that  she 
loved  back  at  him.  You  know!  The  other  fellow  came 
from  a  neighboring  town,  and  he  wasn't  the  same 
kind,  for  he'd  knocked  around  more,  and  was  a  better 
liar  but  he  wasn't  right.  No,  sir!  He  was  sure  a 
6  71 


THE    BARRIER 

wrong  guy,  as  it  came  out,  but  he  was  handsomer  and 
younger,  and  the  very  purity  and  innocence  of  the  girl 
drew  him,  I  reckon,  being  a  change  from  what  he  had 
ever  mixed  up  with." 

"Wy  don*  dis  good  man  tak'  a  shot  at  him?"  asked 
Poleon,  hotly. 

"First,  he  didn't  realize  what  was  going  on,  being 
too  tied  up  with  dreaming,  I  reckon;  and,  second, 
neither  man  didn't  know  the  other  by  sight,  living  as 
they  did  in  different  parts;  third,  he  was  an  ordinary 
sort  of  fellow,  and  hadn't  ever  had  any  trouble,  man  to 
man,  at  that  time.  Anyhow,  the  girl  up  and  took  the 
bad  one." 

"Wat  does  de  good  man  do,  eh?" 

"Well,  he  was  all  tore  up  about  it,  but  he  went 
away  like  a  sick  quail  hides  out." 

"Dat's  too  bad." 

"He  heard  about  them  now  and  then,  and  what  he 
heard  tore  him  up  worse  than  the  other  had,  for  the 
girl's  husband  couldn't  wear  the  harness  long,  and,  hav 
ing  taken  away  what  good  there  was  in  her,  he  made 
up  in  deviltry  for  the  time  he  had  lost.  She  stood  it 
pretty  well,  and  never  whimpered,  even  when  her  eyes 
were  open  and  she  saw  what  a  prize-package  she  had 
drawn.  The  fact  that  she  was  game  enough  to  stand 
for  him  and  yet  keep  herself  clean  without  complaint 
made  the  man  worse.  He  tried  to  break  her  spirit 
in  a  thousand  ways,  tried  to  make  her  the  same  as  he 
was,  tried  to  make  her  a  bad  woman,  like  the  others  he 
had  known.  It  appeared  like  the  one  pleasure  he  got 
was  to  torture  her." 

"Wy  don'  she  quit  *im?"  said  Doret.  "Dat  ain' 
wrong  for  quit  a  man  lak'  him." 

"She  couldn't  quit  on  account  of  the  kid.  They  had 

72 


A    STORY    IS    BEGUN 

•  youngster.  Then,  too,  she  had  ideas  of  her  own; 
so  she  stood  it  for  three  years,  living  worse  than  a  dogf 
till  she  saw  it  wasn't  any  use — till  she  saw  that  he  would 
make  a  bad  woman  of  her  as  sure  as  he  would  make 
one  of  the  kid — till  he  got  rough — •  " 

"No!  No!  You  don'  mean  dat?  No  man  don* 
hurt  no  woman,"  interjected  Doret. 

"By  God!  That's  just  what  I  mean,"  the  trader 
answered,  while  his  face  had  grown  so  gray  as  to  match 
his  brows.  "He  beat  her." 

Poleon  broke  into  French  words  that  accorded  well 
with  the  trader's  harsh  voice. 

"The  woman  sent  for  the  other  man  after  that,  for 
he  had  been  living  lonely,  loving  her  all  the  time,  and 
you'd  better  believe  he  went." 

"Ha!  Dat's  fine!  Dat's  dam*  fine!"  said  the  other. 
"I'll  bet  dere's  hell  to  pay  den — w'at?" 

"Yes,  there  was  a  kind  of  reckoning."  The  old  man 
lapsed  into  moody  silence,  the  younger  one  waiting 
eagerly  for  him  to  continue,  but  there  came  the  sound 
of  voices  down  the  trail,  and  they  looked  up. 

"Here  comes  Lee,"  said  Gale. 

"W'at  happen*  den  ?  I'm  got  great  interes'  'bout  dis 
woman,"  insisted  Poleon. 

"It's  a  long  story,  and  I  just  told  you  this  much  to 
show  what  I  said  was  true  about  a  good  girl  and  a  bad 
man,  and  to  show  why  I  want  Necia  to  get  a  good  one. 
The  sooner  it  happens  the  better  it  will  suit  me." 

Neither  man  had  ever  spoken  thus  openly  to  the 
other  about  Necia  before,  and  although  their  language 
was  indirect,  each  knew  the  other's  thought.  But 
there  was  no  time  for  further  talk  now,  for  the  others 
were  close  upon  them.  As  they  came  into  \iew,  Gale 
exclaimed: 

73 


THE    BARRIER 

"Well,  if  he  hasn't  brought  Runnion  along!" 

"Humph!"  grunted  Doret.  "I  don'  t'ink  much  ol 
dat  feller.  Wat's  de  matter  wit' '  No  Creek,'  anyhow  ?" 

The  three  new  arrivals  dropped  down  upon  the  moss 
to  rest,  for  the  up-trail  was  heavy  and  the  air  sultry 
inside  the  forest.  Lee  was  the  first  to  speak,, 

"Did  you  get  away  without  bein'  seen?"  he  asked. 

"Sure,"  answered  Gale.  "Poleon  has  been  here  two 
hours." 

"That's  good;   I  don't  want  nobody  taggin'  along. " 

"We  came  right  through  the  town  boldly,"  an 
nounced  Stark;  "but  if  they  had  seen  you  two  they 
would  have  suspected  something,  sure." 

Runnion  volunteered  nothing  except  oaths  at  the 
mosquitoes  and  at  his  pack  -  straps,  which  were  new 
and  cut  him  already.  As  no  explanation  of  his  pres 
ence  was  offered,  neither  the  trader  nor  Doret  made 
any  comment  then,  but  it  came  out  later,  when  the  old 
miner  dropped  far  enough  behind  the  others  to  render 
conversation  possible. 

"You  decided  to  take  in  another  one,  eh?"  Gale 
asked  Lee. 

"It  wasn't  exactly  my  doin's,"  replied  the  miner. 
"Stark  asked  me  to  let  Runnion  come  'long,  bein' as  he 
had  grub-staked  him,  and  he  seemed  so  set  on  it  that  I 
ackeressed.  You  see,  it's  the  first  chance  I  ever  had 
to  pay  him  back  for  a  favor  he  done  me  in  the  Cassiar 
country.  There's  plenty  of  land  to  go  around." 

It  was  Lee's  affair,  thought  the  trader,  and  he  might 
telj  whom  he  liked,  so  he  said  no  more,  but  fell  to 
studying  the  back  of  the  man  next  in  front,  who  hap 
pened  to  be  Stark,  observing  every  move  and  trick  of 
him,  and,  during  the  frequent  pauses,  making  a  point 
of  listening  and  watching  him  guardedly, 

74 


A    STORY    IS    BEGUN 

All  through  the  afternoon  the  five  men  wound  up 
the  valley,  following  one  another's  footsteps,  emerging 
from  sombre  thickets  of  fir  to  flounder  across  wide 
pastures  of  "nigger-heads,"  that  wobbled  and  wriggled 
and  bowed  beneath  their  feet,  until  at  cost  of  much 
effort  and  profanity  they  gained  the  firmer  footing  of 
the  forest.  Occasionally  they  came  upon  the  stream, 
and  found  easier  going  along  its  gravel  bars,  till  a 
bend  threw  them  again  into  the  meadows  and  mesas 
on  either  hand.  Their  course  led  them  far  up  the 
big  valley  to  another  stream  that  entered  from  the 
right,  bearing  backward  in  a  great  bow  towards  the 
Yukon,  and  always  there  were  dense  clouds  of  mos 
quitoes  above  their  heads.  At  one  point  Stark,  hot 
and  irritable,  remarked: 

"There  must  be  a  shorter  cut  than  this,  Lee?" 

"I  reckon  there  is,"  the  miner  replied,  "but  I've 
always  had  a  pack  to  carry,  so  I  chose  the  level  ground 
ruther  than  climb  the  divides." 

"S'pose  dose  people  at  camp  hear  'bout  dis  strike 
an'  beat  us  in?"  suggested  Poleon. 

"It  wouldn't  be  easy  going  for  them  after  they  got 
there,"  Stark  said, sourly.  "I, for  one,  wouldn't  stand 
for  it." 

"Nor  I,"  agreed  Runnion. 

"I  don't  see  how  you'd  help  yourself,"  the  trader 
remarked.  "One  man's  got  as  good  a  right  as  an 
other." 

"I  guess  I'd  help  myself,  all  right,"  Stark  laughed, 
significantly,  as  did  Runnion,  who  added: 

"Lee  is  entitled  to  put  in  anybody  he  wants  on  his 
own  discovery,  and  if  anybody  tries  to  get  ahead  of  us 
there's  liable  to  be  trouble." 

"I  reckon  if  I  don't  know  no  short-cut,  nobody  else 

75 


THE    BARRIER 

does/'  Lee  remarked,  whereupon  Doret  spoke  up  re* 

assuringly: 

"Dere's  no  use  gettin*  scare*  lak'  dat,  biccause  no 
body  knows  w'ere  Lee's  creek  she's  locate*  but  John 
an*  me,  an*  dere's  nobody  w'at  knows  he  mak*  de  strike 
but  us  four." 

"That's  right,"  said  Gale;  "the  only  other  way  across 
is  by  Black  Pear  Creek,  and  there  ain't  a  half-dozen 
men  ever  been  up  to  the  head  of  that  stream,  much 
tess  over  the  divide,  so  I  don't  allow  there's  any  use  to 
fret  ourselves." 

They  went  on  their  way,  travelling  leisurely  until 
late  evening,  when  they  camped  at  the  mouth  of  the 
valley  up  which  the  miner's  cabin  lay.  They  chose  a 
long  gravel  bar,  that  curved  like  a  scimitar,  and  made 
down  upon  its  outer  tip  where  the  breeze  tended  to 
thin  the  plague  of  insects.  They  were  all  old-stagers 
in  the  ways  of  camplife,  so  there  was  no  lost  motion 
or  bickering  as  to  their  respective  duties.  Their  prep 
arations  were  simple.  First  they  built  a  circle  of 
smudges  out  of  wet  driftwood,  and  inside  this  Lee 
kindled  a  camp-fire  of  dry  sticks,  upon  which  he  cooked, 
protected  by  the  smoke  of  the  others,  while  Gale 
went  back  to  the  edge  of  the  forest  and  felled  a  dozen 
small  firs,  the  branches  of  which  he  clipped.  These 
Poleon  and  Runnion  bore  down  to  the  end  of  the 
spit  for  bedding,  while  Stark  chopped  a  pile  of  dry 
wood  for  the  night.  Gale  noted  that  the  new  man 
swung  an  axe  with  the  free  dexterity  of  one  to  whom 
its  feel  was  familiar,  also  that  he  never  made  a  slip 
nor  dulled  it  on  the  gravel  of  the  bar,  displaying  an 
all-round  completeness  and  a  knack  of  doing  things 
efficiently  that  won  reluctant  approval  from  the  trader 
despite  the  unr2^soning  dislike  he  had  taken  to  him. 


A    STORY    IS    BEGUN 

Lee  was  ready  for  them  by  the  time  they  had  fin- 
fashed  their  tasks,  and,  fanned  by  the  breeze  that  sucked 
up  the  stream  and  lulled  by  the  waters,  they  ate  their 
scanty  supper.  Their  one-eyed  guide  had  lived  so 
long  among  mosquitoes  and  had  become  so  inoculated 
with  their  poison  that  he  was  in  a  measure  impervious  to 
their  sting,  hence  the  ;-v sects  gathered  on  his  wrinkled, 
hair-grown  hide  only  to  give  up  in  melancholy  disgust  and 
fly  to  other  and  fuller-blooded  feeding-grounds.  Camp 
had  been  made  early,  at  Gale's  suggestion,  instead  of 
pushing  on  a  few  miles  farther,  as  Lee  had  intended; 
and  now,  when  the  cool  evening  fell  and  the  draught 
quickened,  it  became  possible  to  lay  off  gloves  and  head 
gear;  so  they  sat  about  the  fire,  talking,  smoking, 
and  rubbing  their  tired  feet. 

It  is  at  such  hours  and  in  the  smoke  of  such  fires 
that  men  hark  backward  and  bring  forth  the  sacred, 
time-worn  memories  they  have  treasured,  to  turn  them 
over  fondly  by  the  glow  of  dying  embers.  It  is  at 
such  times  that  men's  garrulity  asserts  itself,  for  the 
barriers  of  caution  are  let  down,  as  are  the  gates  of 
remembrance,  and  it  is  then  that  friends  and  enemies 
are  made,  for  there  are  those  who  cannot  listen  and 
others  who  cannot  understand. 

"No  Creek"  Lee,  the  one-eyed  miner  who  had 
made  this  lucky  strike,  told  in  simple  words  of  his  long 
and  solitary  quest,  when  ill-luck  had  risen  with  him 
at  the  dawn  and  misfortune  had  stalked  beside  him 
as  he  drifted  and  drank  from  camp  to  camp,  while  the 
gloom  of  a  settled  pessimism  soured  him,  and  men 
began  to  shun  him  because  of  the  evil  that  seemed  to 
follow  in  his  steps. 

"I've  been  rainbow -chasin*  forty  years,"  he  said, 
"and  never  caught  nothin'  but  cramps  and  epidemics 

77 


THE    BARRIER 

and  inflammations.  Fm  the  only  miner  in  Alaska 
that  never  made  a  discovery  ot  gold  and  never  had  a 
creek  named  after  him." 

"Is  that  how  you  got  your  name?"  asked  Runnion. 

"It  is.  I  never  was  no  good  to  myself  nor  nobody 
else.  I  just  occupied  space.  I've  been  the  vermifuge 
appendix  of  the  body  politic;  '/es,  worse 'n  that — I've 
been  an  appendix  with  a  seed  in  it.  I  made  myself 
sore,  and  everybody  around  me,  but  I'm  at  the  bat 
now,  and  don't  you  never  let  that  fact  escape  you." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  spend  your  money  ?"  inquired 
Stark. 

"I'm  goin*  to  eat  it  up!  I've  fed  on  dried  and  des 
iccated  and  other  disastrous  and  dissatisfactory  diets 
till  I'm  all  shrivelled  up  inside  like  a  dead  puff-ball; 
now  it's  me  for  the  big  feed  and  the  long  drink.  I'm 
goin'  to  'Frisco  and  get  full  of  wasteful  ^and  exorbitant 
grub,  of  one  kind  and  another,  like  tomatters  and 
French  vicious  water." 

Poleon  Doret  laughed  with  the  others ;  he  was  bub 
bling  with  the  spirits  of  a  boy  whose  life  is  clean,  for 
whom  there  are  no  eyes  in  the  black  dark  that  lies 
beyond  a  camp-fire,  and  for  whom  there  are  no  un 
forgettable  faces  in  its  smoke.  When  Lee  fell  silent 
the  trader  and  Stark  resumed  their  talk,  which  was 
mainly  of  California,  it  seemed  to  the  Frenchman,  who 
also  noted  that  it  was  his  friend  who  subtly  shaped 
the  topics.  In  time  their  stories  revived  his  memory 
of  the  conversation  in  the  birch  grove  that  morn- 
ing,  and  when  there  occurred  a  lapse  in  the  talk  he 
said: 

"Say,  John,  w'at  happen5  to  dat  gal  we  was  talkin* 
*bout  dis  mornin'?" 

Gale  shook  his  head  and  turned  again  to  his  conv 

78 


•3      r^ 


<u       S» 

t    J 


-=        %» 


rt 
T3          = 

^          "^ 


'f- 


A    STORY    IS    BEGUN 

panion,  but  the  young  man's  mind  was  bent  on  its 
quest,  and  he  continued: 

"Dat  was  strange  tale,  for  sure." 

"What  was  it?"  questioned  Runnion. 

"John  was  tell  *bout  a  feller  he  knowed  w'at  marry 
a  good  gal  jus*  to  mak'  her  bad  lak'  hese'f." 

"How's  that?"  inquired  Stark,  turning  curiously 
upon  the  old  man;  but  Gale  knocked  the  ashes  from 
his  pipe  and  replied: 

"Oh,  it's  a  long  story — happened  when  I  was  in 
Washington  State." 

Poleon  was  about  to  correct  him — it  was  California, 
he  had  said — when  Gale  arose,  remarking  sleepily  that 
it  was  time  to  turn  in  if  they  wished  to  get  any  rest 
before  the  mosquitoes  got  bad  again,  then  sauntered 
away  from  the  fire  and  spread  his  blanket.  The  rest 
followed  and  made  down  their  beds,  then,  drawing  on 
globes  and  hat-nets,  and  rolling  themselves  up  in  their 
covepngs,  fell  to  snoring.  All  except  the  trader,  who 
lay  foi  hours  on  his  back  staring  up  at  the  stars,  as  if 
trying  to  solve  some  riddle  that  baffled  him. 

They  awoke  early,  and  in  half  an  hour  had  eaten, 
remade  their  packs,  and  were  ready  to  resume  their 
march,  As  they  were  about  to  start.  Gale  said: 

"I  reckon  we'd  better  settle  right  now  who  has  the 
choice  of  locations  when  we  get  up  yonder.  I've 
been  on  stampedes  where  it  saved  a  heap  of  hard 
feeling." 

"I'm  agreeable,"  said  Stark.  "Then  there  won't 
be  any  misunderstanding." 

The  others,  being  likewise  old  at  the  game,  acquiesced. 
They  knew  that  in  such  cases  grave  trouble  has  often 
occurred  when  two  men  have  cast  eyes  on  the  same 
claim,  and  have  felt  the  miner's  causeless  "hunch" 

79 


THE    BARRIER 

that  gold  lies  here  or  there,  or  that  the  ground  one 
of  them  covets  is  wanted  by  the  other. 

"I'll  hold  the  straws,"  said  Lee,  "and  every  feller 
will  have  an  even  break."  Turning  his  back  on  the 
others,  he  cut  four  splinters  of  varying  lengths,  and, 
arranging  them  so  that  the  ends  peeped  evenly  from 
his  big  hand,  he  held  them  out. 

"The  longest  one  has  the  first  choice,  and  so  on," 
he  said,  presenting  them  to  Gale,  who  promptly  drew 
the  longest  of  the  four.  He  turned  to  Doret,  but  the 
Frenchman  waved  him  courteously  to  Stark,  and,  when 
both  he  and  Runnion  had  made  their  choice,  Lee  handed 
him  the  remaining  one,  which  was  next  in  length  to 
that  of  the  trader.  Stark  and  Runnion  qualified  in 
the  order  they  drew,  the  latter  cursing  his  evil  luck. 

"Never  min',  ole  man,"  laughed  Poleon,  "de  las' 
shot  she's  de  sure  wan." 

They  took  up  their  burdens  again,  and  filed  towards 
the  narrow  valley  that  stretched  away  into  the  hazy 
distances. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE     BURRELL     CODB 

NOT  until  his  dying  day  will  Barrel  1  lose  the  mem 
ory  of  that  march  with  Necia  through  the  un 
trodden  valley,  and  yet  its  incidents  were  never  clear- 
cut  nor  distinct  when  he  looked  back  upon  them,  but 
blended  into  one  dreamlike  procession,  as  if  he  wan 
dered  through  some  calenture  where  every  image  was 
delightfully  distorted  and  each  act  deliciously  unreal, 
yet  all  the  sweeter  from  its  fleeting  unreality.  They 
talked  and  laughed  and  sang  with  a  rush  of  spirits  as 
untamed  as  the  waters  in  the  course  they  followed. 
They  wandered,  hand-in-hand,  into  a  land  of  illusions, 
where  there  was  nothing  real  but  love  and  nothing 
tangible  but  joy.  The  touch  of  their  lips  had  waked 
that  delight  which  comes  but  once  in  a  lifetime  and 
then  to  but  few;  it  was  like  the  moon-madness  of  the 
tropics  or  the  dementia  of  the  forest  folk  in  spring.  A 
gentle  frenzy  possessed  them,  rendering  them  insensible 
to  fatigue  and  causing  them  to  hurry  the  more  breath- 
Vessly  that  they  might  sooner  rest  and  sit  beside  each 
other.  it  times  they  fell  into  sweet  silences  where 
the  waters  laughed  with  them  and  the  trees  whis 
pered  their  secret,  bowing  and  nodding  in  joyous  sur 
prise  at  this  invasion;  or,  again,  the  breezes  romped 
with  them,  withdrawing  now  and  then  to  rush  out  and 
greet  them  at  the  bends  in  boisterous  pleasure. 

81 


THE    BARRIER 

They  held  to  the  bed  of  the  stream,  for  its  volume 
was  low  and  enabled  them  to  ford  it  from  bar  to  bar. 
Necia  had  been  raised  in  the  open,  with  the  wild  places 
for  her  playground,  and  her  muscles  were  like  those 
of  a  boy,  hence  the  two  swung  merrily  onward,  as  if 
in  playful  contest,  while  the  youth  had  never  occasion 
to  wait  for  her  or  to  moderate  his  gait.  Indeed,  her 
footing  was  more  sure  than  his,  as  he  found  when  she 
ventured  out  unhesitatingly  upon  felled  logs  that  lay 
across  swift,  brawling  depths.  The  wilderness  had  no 
mystery  for  her,  and  no  terrors,  so  she  was  ever  at  his 
side,  or  in  advance,  while  her  eyes,  schooled  in  the 
tints  of  the  forest,  and  more  active  than  those  of  & 
bird,  saw  every  moving  thing,  from  the  flash  of  a  camp- 
robber  ',«  wing  through  some  hidden  glade  to  the  in 
quisitive  nodding  of  a  fool  hen  where  it  perched  high 
Up  against  the  bole  of  a  spruce.  They  surprised  a 
*3iarten  fishing  in  a  drift-wood  dam,  but  she  would  no* 
let  the  soldier  shoot,  and  made  him  pass  it  by,  where 
It  sat  amazed  till  it  realized  that  these  were  lovers 
and  resumed  its  fishing.  Gradually  the  stream  dimin 
ished,  and  its  bowldered  bed  became  more  difficult  to 
traverse,  until,  assuming  the  airs  of  a  leader,  the  girl 
commanded  him  to  lay  off  his  pack,  at  which  he  pre 
tended  to  obey  mutinously,  though  thrilling  with  the 
keenest  delight  at  his  own  submission. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  he  inquired. 

"Mind  your  own  business,  sir,"  she  commanded, 
sternly. 

From  her  belt  she  drew  a  little  hunting-knite,  with 
which  she  cut  and  trimmed  a  slender  birch  the  thick 
ness  of  his  thumb,  whereupon  he  pretended  great 
fright,  and  said: 

"Please!  please!     What  have  I  done?" 

82 


THE    BURRELL    CODE 

"A  great  deal!  You  are  a  most  bold  and  stubborn 
creature." 

"All  pack  animals  are  stubborn/'  he  declared.  "It's 
the  only  privilege  they  have." 

"You  are  much  too  presumptuous,  also,  as  I  dis 
covered  in  your  quarters." 

"My  only  presumption  is  in  loving  you." 

"That  was  not  presumption,"  she  smiled;  "it  was 
pre-emption.  You  must  be  punished." 

"I  shall  run  away,"  he  threatened.  "I  shall  gallop 
right  off  through  the  woods  and — begin  to  eat  grass. 
I  am  very  wild." 

As  she  talked  she  drew  from  her  pocket  a  spool  of 
line,  and  took  a  fly-hook  from  her  hat;  then, in  a  trice, 
she  had  rigged  a  fishing-rod,  and,  creeping  out  upon  a 
ledge,  she  whipped  the  pool  below  of  a  half-dozen  rain 
bow  trout,  which  she  thrust  into  his  coat  while  they 
were  still  wriggling.  Then  she  as  quickly  put  up  her 
gear,  and  they  resumed  their  journey,  climbing  more 
steeply  now,  until,  when  the  sun  was  low,  they  quit 
the  stream-bed  and  made  through  the  forest  towards 
the  shoulder  of  an  untimbered  ridge  that  ran  down 
into  the  valley.  And  there,  high  up  on  the  edge  of 
the  spruce,  they  selected  a  mossy  shelf  and  pitched 
their  camp. 

They  had  become  so  intimate  by  now  as  to  fall  into 
a  whimsical  mode  of  speech,  and  Necia  reverted  to  a 
childish  habit  in  her  talk  that  brought  many  a  smile 
to  the  youth's  face.  It  had  been  her  fancy  as  a  little 
girl  to  speak  in  adjectives,  ignoring  many  of  her  nouns, 
and  its  quaintness  had  so  amused  her  father  that  on 
rare  occasions,  when  the  humor  was  on  him,  he  also 
took  it  up.  She  now  addressed  herself  to  Burrell  in 
the  same  manner. 


THE    BARRIER 

"I  think  we  are  very  smarts  to  come  so  far, 
said. 

"You  travel  like  a  deer,"  he  declared,  admiringly, 
"Why,  you  have  tired  me  down."  Removing  his  pack,, 
he  stretched  his  arms  and  shook  out  the  ache  in  He 
shoulders. 

"Which  way  does  our  course  lie  now,  Pathfinder?" 

"Right  up  the  side  of  this  big,  and  then  along  the 
ridge.  In  two  hours  we  come  to  a  gully  running  so" — 
she  indicated  an  imaginary  direction — "which  we  go 
down  till  it  joins  another  stream  so,  and  right  there 
we'll  find  old  'No  Creek's*  cabin,  so!  Won't  they  be 
surprised  to  see  us!  I  think  we're  very  cunning  to 
beat  them  in,  don't  you?"  She  laughed  a  glad  littte 
bubbling  laugh,  and  he  cried: 

"Oh,  girl!     How  wonderful  you  are!" 

"It's  getting  very  dark  and  fierce,"  she  chided, 
"and  all  the  housework  must  be  done." 

So  he  built  a  fire,  then  fetched  a  bucket  of  water 
from  a  rill  that  trickled  down  among  the  rocks  near 
by.  He  made  as  if  to  prepare  their  meal,  but  she 
would  have  none  of  it. 

"Bigs  should  never  cook,"  she  declared.  "That 
work  belongs  to  littles,"  then  forced  him  to  vacate 
her  domain  and  turn  himself  to  the  manlier  duties  of 
chopping  wood  and  boughs. 

First,  however,  she  showed  him  how  to  place  two 
green  foot-logs  upon  which  the  teapot  and  the  frying- 
pan  would  sit  without  upsetting,  and  how  long  she 
wished  the  sticks  of  cooking-wood.  Then  she  banished 
him,  as  it  were,  and  he  built  a  wickiup  of  spruce  tops, 
vtnder  the  shelter  of  which  he  piled  thick,  fragrant  bil 
lows  of  "Yukon  feathers." 

Once  while  he  was  busy  at  his  task  he  paused  to 


THE    BURRELL    CODE 

revel  in  the  colors  that  lay  against  hill  and  valley,  and 
to  drink  in  the  splendid  isolation  of  it  all.  Below 
lay  the  bed  of  Black  Bear  Creek,  silent  and  sombre  in 
the  creeping  twilight;  beyond,  away  beyond,  across 
the  westward  brim  of  the  Yukon  basin,  the  peaks  were 
blue  and  ivory  and  gold  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sun; 
while  the  open  slopes  behind  and  all  about  wore  a  car 
pet  of  fragrant  short-lived  flowers,  nodding  as  if  tow 
ards  sleep,  and  over  all  was  the  hush  of  the  lonely 
hills.  A  gust  blew  a  whiff  of  the  camp  smoke  towards 
him,  and  he  turned  back  to  watch  Necia  kneeling 
beside  the  fire  like  some  graceful  virgin  at  her  altar 
rites,  while  the  peculiar  acrid  out-door  odor  of  burn 
ing  spruce  was  like  an  incense  in  his  nostrils. 

He  filled  his  chest  deeply  and  leaned  on  his  axe,  for 
he  found  himself  shaking  as  if  under  the  spell  of  some 
great  expectancy. 

"Your  supper  is  getting  cold,"  she  called  to  him. 

He  took  a  seat  beside  her  on  a  pile  of  boughs  where 
the  smoke  was  least  troublesome;  he  had  chosen  a 
spot  that  was  sheltered  by  a  lichen  -  covered  ledge, 
and  this  low  wall  behind,  with  the  wickiup  joining  it, 
formed  an  enclosure  that  lent  them  a  certain  air  of 
privacy.  They  ate  ravenously,  and  drank  deep  cup- 
fuls  of  the  unflavored  tea.  By  the  time  they  were 
finished  the  night  had  fallen  and  the  air  was  just  cool 
enough  to  make  the  fire  agreeable.  Burrell  heaped  oa 
more  wood  and  stretched  out  beside  her. 

"This  day  has  been  so  wonderful,"  said  the  girl, 
"that  I  shall  never  go  to  sleep.  I  can't  bear  to  end  it." 

"But  you  must  be  weary,  little  maid,"  he  said, 
gently;  "I  am." 

"Wait,  let  me  see."  She  stretched  her  limbs  and 
moved  slightly  to  try  her  muscles,  "Yes,  I  am  a  very 

85 


THE    BARRIER 

tired,  but  not  the  kind  of  tired  that  makes  you  want 
to  go  to  bed.  I  want  to  talk,  talk,  talk,  and  not  about 
ourselves  either,  but  about  sensibles.  Tell  me  about 
your  people — your  sister." 

He  had  expected  her  to  ask  this,  for  the  subject 
seemed  to  have  an  inexhaustible  charm  for  her.  She 
would  sit  rapt  and  motionless  as  long  as  he  cared  to 
talk  of  his  sister,  in  her  wide,  meditative  eyes  the 
shadow  of  a  great  unvoiced  longing.  It  always  seemed 
to  make  her  grave  and  thoughtful,  he  had  noticed,  so 
he  had  tried  lately  to  avoid  the  topic,  and  to-night 
in  particular  he  wanted  to  do  so,  for  this  was  no  time 
for  melancholy.  He  had  not  even  allowed  himself  to 
think,  as  yet,  and  there  were  reasons  why  he  d;3  not 
wish  her  to  do  so;  thought  and  realization  and  a  re 
adjustment  of  their  relations  would  come  after  to 
night,  but  this  was  the  hour  of  illusion,  and  it  must 
not  be  broken;  therefore  he  began  to  tell  her  of  other 
people  and  of  his  youth,  making  his  tales  as  fanciful 
as  possible,  choosing  deliberately  to  foster  the  merry 
humor  in  which  they  had  been  all  day.  He  told  her 
of  his  father,  the  crotchety  old  soldier,  whose  absurd 
sense  of  duty  and  whose  elaborate  Southern  courtesy 
had  become  a  byword  in  the  South.  He  told  her 
household  tales  that  were  prized  like  pieces  of  the 
Burrell  plate,  beautiful  heirlooms  of  sentiment  that 
mark  the  honor  of  high-blooded  houses;  following 
which  there  was  much  to  recount  of  the  Meades,  from 
the  admiral  who  fought  as  a  boy  in  the  Bay  of  Tripoli 
down  to  the  cousin  who  was  at  Annapolis;  the  while 
his  listener  hung  upon  his  words  hungrily,  her  mind 
so  quick  in  pursuit  of  his  that  it  spurred  him  uncon 
sciously,  her  great,  dark  eyes  half  closed  in  silent 
laughter  or  wide  with  wonder,  and  in  them  always 

86 


THE    BURRELL    CODE 

the  warmth  of  the  leaping  firelight  blended  with  the 
trust  of  a  new-born  virginal  love. 

Without  realizing  it,  the  young  man  drifted  further 
than  he  had  intended,  and  further  than  he  had  ever 
allowed  himself  to  go  before,  for  in  him  was  a  clean 
and  honest  pride  of  birth,  like  his  mother's  glory  in  her 
forebears,  the  expression  of  which  he  had  learned  to 
repress,  inasmuch  as  it  was  a  Dixie-land  conceit  and 
had  been  misunderstood  when  he  went  North  to  the 
Academy.  In  some  this  would  have  seemed  oigot- 
ed  and  feminine,  this  immoderate  admiration  for  his 
own  blood,  this  exaggerated  appreciation  of  his  family 
honor,  but  in  this  Southern  youth  it  was  merely  the 
unconscious  commendation  of  an  upright  manliness 
for  an  upright  code.  When  he  had  finished,  the  girl 
remarked,  with  honest  approval: 

"What  a  fine  you  are.  Those  people  of  yours  have 
all  been  good  men  and  women,  haven't  they?" 

"Most  of  them,"  he  admitted,  "and  I  think  the 
reason  is  that  we've  been  soldiers.  The  army  disci 
pline  is  good  for  a  man.  It  narrows  a  fellow,  I  sup 
pose,  but  it  keeps  him  straight." 

Then  he  began  to  laugh  silently. 

"What  is  it?"  she  said,  curiously. 

"Oh,  nothing!  I  was  just  wondering  what  my  strait- 
laced  ancestors  would  say  if  they  could  see  me  now." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  the  girl  asked,  in  open-eyed 
wonderment. 

"I  don't  care,"  he  went  on,  unheeding  her  question. 
"They  did  worse  things  in  their  time,  from  what  I 
hear."  He  leaned  forward  to  draw  her  to  him. 

"Worse  things?  But  we  are  doing  nothing  bad," 
said  Necia,  holding  him  off.  "There's  no  wrong  in 
loving." 

r  87 


THE    BARRIER 

"Of  course  not,"  he  assured  her. 

"I  am  proud  of  it,"  she  declared.  "It  is  the  finest 
thing,  the  greatest  thing  that  has  ever  come  into  my 
life.  Why,  I  simply  can't  hold  it;  I  want  to  sing  it 
to  the  stars  and  cry  it  out  to  the  whole  world.  Don't 
you?" 

"  I  hardly  think  we'd  better  advertise,"  he  said,  dryly. 

"Why  not?" 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  care  to  publish  the  tale  of  this 
excu.  sion  of  ours,  would  you?" 

"I  don't  see  any  reason  against  it.  I  have  often 
taken  trips  with  Poleon,  and  been  gone  with  him  for 
days  and  days  at  a  time." 

"But  you  were  not  a  woman  then,"  he  said,  softly. 

"No,  not  until  to-day,  that's  true.  Dear,  dear! 
How  I  did  grow  all  of  a  sudden!  And  yet  I'm  just  the 
same  as  I  was  yesterday,  and  I'll  always  be  the  same, 
just  a  wild  little.  Please  don't  ever  let  me  be  a  big 
tame.  I  don't  want  to  be  commonplace  and  ordinary. 
I  want  to  be  natural — and  good." 

"You  couldn't  be  like  other  women,"  he  declared, 
and  there  was  more  tenderness  than  hunger  in  his 
tone  now,  as  she  looked  up  at  him  trustingly  from  the 
shelter  of  his  arms.  "It  would  spoil  you  to  grow  up." 

"It  is  so  good  to  be  alive  and  to  love  you  like  this!" 
she  continued,  dreamily,  staring  into  the  fire.  "I 
seem  to  have  come  out  of  a  gloomy  house  into  the 
glory  of  a  warm  spring  day,  for  my  eyes  are  blinded 
and  I  can't  see  half  the  beautifuls  I  want  to,  there  are 
so  many  about  me," 

"Those  are  my  arms,"  interjected  the  soldier,  lightly, 
in  an  effort  to  ward  off  her  growing  seriousness. 

"I  ve  never  been  afraid  of  anything,  and  yet  I  feel 
so  safe  inside  them.  Isn't  it  queer?" 

88 


THE    BURRELL    CODE 

The  young  man  became  conscious  of  a  vague  dis 
comfort,  and  realized  dimly  that  for  hours  now  he 
had  been  smothering  with  words  and  caresses  a 
something  that  had  striven  with  him  to  be  heard, 
a  something  that  instead  of  dying  grew  stronger  the 
more  utterly  this  innocent  maid  yielded  to  him.  It 
was  as  if  he  had  ridden  impulse  with  rough  spurs  in  a 
fierce  desire  to  distance  certain  voices,  and  in  the  first 
mad  gallop  had  lost  them,  but  now  far  back  heard 
them  calling  again  more  strongly  every  moment.  A 
man's  honor,  if  old,  may  travel  feebly,  but  its  pursuit 
is  persistent.  It  was  the  talk  about  his  people  that 
had  raised  this  damned  uneasiness  and  indecision,  he 
thought.  Why  had  he  ever  started  it  ? 

"The  marvellous  part  of  it  all,"  continued  the  girl, 
"is  that  it  will  never  end.  I  know  I  shall  love  you 
always.  Do  you  suppose  I  am  really  different  from 
other  girls?" 

"Everything  is  different  to-night — the  whole  world," 
he  declared,  impatiently.  "I  thought  I  knew  myself, 
but  suddenly  I  seem  strange  in  my  own  eyes." 

"I've  had  a  big  handicap,"  she  said,  "but  you  must 
help  me  to  overco  ne  it.  I  want  to  be  like  your 
sister." 

He  rose  and  piled  more  wood  upon  the  fire.  What 
possessed  the  girl?  It  was  as  if  she  knew  each  cun 
ning  joint  of  his  armor,  as  if  she  had  realized  her 
peril  and  had  set  about  the  awakening  of  his  conscience, 
deliberately  and  with  a  cautious  wisdom  beyond  her 
years.  Well,  she  had  done  it — and  he  swore  to  him 
self.  Then  he  melted  at  the  sight  of  her,  crouched 
there  against  the  shadows,  following  his  every  move 
ment  with  her  soul  in  her  eyes,  the  tenderest  trace  of 
a  smile  upon  her  lips.  He  vowed  he  was  a  reprobate 


THE    BARRIER 

to  wrong  her  so;  it  was  her  white  soul  and  her  woman's 
love  that  spoke. 

When  she  beheld  him  gazing  at  her,  she  tilted  her 
head  sidewise  daintily,  like  a  little  bird. 

"Oh,  my!     What  a  fierce  you  are  all  at  once!" 

Her  smile  flashed  up  as  if  illumined  by  the  leaping 
blaze,  and  he  crossed  quickly,  kneeling  beside  her. 

"Dear,  wonderful  girl,"  he  said,  "it  is  going  to  be 
my  heart's  work  to  see  that  you  never  change  and 
that  you  remain  just  what  you  are.  You  can't  un 
derstand  what  this  means  to  me,  for  I,  too,  was 
blinded,  but  the  darkness  of  the  night  has  restored 
my  vision.  Now  you  must  go  to  sleep ;  the  hours  are 
short  and  we  must  be  going  early." 

He  piled  up  a  great,  sweet-scented  couch  of  springy 
boughs,  and  fashioned  her  a  pillow  out  of  a  bundle  of 
smaller  ones,  around  which  he  wrapped  his  khaki  coat; 
then  he  removed  her  high-laced  boots,  and,  taking  her 
tiny  feet,  one  in  the  palm  of  either  hand,  bowed  his 
head  over  them  and  kissed  them  with  a  sense  of  her 
gracious  purity  and  his  own  unworthiness.  He  spread 
one  of  the  big  gray  blankets  over  her,  and  tucked  her 
in,  while  she  sighed  in  delightful  languor,  looking  up 
at  him  all  the  time. 

"I'll  sit  here  beside  you  for  a  while,"  he  said.  "I 
want  to  smoke  a  bit." 

She  stole  a  slim,  brown  hand  out  from  beneath  the 
cover  and  snuggled  it  in  his,  and  he  leaned  forward, 
closing  her  lids  down  with  his  lips.  Her  utter  weari 
ness  was  manifest,  for  she  fell  asleep  almost  instantly, 
her  fingers  twined  about  his  in  a  childlike  grip. 

At  times  a  great  desire  to  feel  her  in  his  arms,  to 
have  her  on  his  breast,  surged  over  him,  for  he  had 
lived  long  apart  from  women,  and  the  solitude  of 

90 


THE    BURRELL    CODE 

the  night  seemed  to  mock  him.  He  was  a  strong 
man,  and  in  his  veins  ran  the  blood  of  wayward  fore 
bears  who  were  wont  to  possess  that  which  they  con 
quered  in  the  lists  of  love,  mingled  with  which  was  the 
blood  of  spirited  Southern  women  who  had  on  occasion 
loved  not  wisely,  according  to  Kentucky  rumor,  but 
only  too  well.  Nevertheless,  they  were  honest  men 
and  women,  if  over-sentimental,  and  had  transmitted 
to  him  a  heritage  of  chivalry  and  a  high  sense  of 
honor  and  courage.  Strange  to  say,  this  little,  sim 
ple  half-breed  girl  had  revived  this  honor  and  cour 
age,  even  when  he  tried  most  stubbornly  to  smother 
it.  If  only  her  love  was  like  her  blood,  he  might 
have  had  no  scruples;  or  if  her  blood  were  as  pure 
as  her  love — even  then  it  would  be  easier;  but,  as  it 
was,  he  must  give  her  up  to-night,  and  for  all  time. 
Her  love  had  placed  a  barrier  between  them  greater  and 
more  insurmountable  than  her  blood. 

He  sat  for  a  long  time  with  the  dwindling  firelight 
playing  about  him,  his  manhood  and  his  desires  locked 
in  a  grim  struggle,  wondering  at  the  hold  this  forest 
elf  had  gained  upon  him,  wondering  how  it  was  that 
she  had  stolen  into  his  heart  and  head  and  taken  such 
utter  possession  of  him.  It  would  be  no  easy  task  to 
shut  her  out  of  his  mind  and  put  her  away  from  him. 
And  she  .  .  .  ? 

He  gently  withdrew  his  fingers  from  her  grasp,  and, 
seeking  the  other  side  of  the  wickiup,  covered  himself 
over  without  disturbing  her,  and  fell  asleep. 

It  was  early  dawn  when  Necia  crept  to  him. 

"I  dreamed  you  had  gone  away,"  she  said,  shivering 
violently  and  drawing  close.  "Oh,  it  was  a  terrible 
awakening — " 

"I  was  too  tired  to  dream,"  he  said. 


THE   BARRIER 

"So  I  had  to  come  and  see  if  you  were  really  here,90 

He  quickly  rekindled  the  fire,  and  they  made  a  hasty 
breakfast.  Before  the  warmth  of  the  rising  sun  had 
penetrated  the  cold  air  they  had  climbed  the  ridge  and 
obtained  a  wondrous  view  of  broken  country,  the  hills 
alight  with  the  morning  rays,  the  valleys  misty  and 
mystical.  They  made  good  progress  on  the  summit, 
which  was  paved  with  barren  rock  and  sparsely  car 
peted  with  short  moss,  while  there  was  never  a  hint 
of  insects  to  annoy  them.  Merrily  they  swung  along, 
buoyed  up  by  an  unnatural  exaltation;  yet  now  and 
then,  as  they  dr^.w  near  their  destination,  the  young 
man  had  a  chilling  premonition  of  evil  to  come,  and 
wondered  if  he  had  not  been  foolhardy  to  undertake 
this  rash  enterprise. 

"I  wish  Stark  was  not  one  of  Lee's  party/1  he  said 
once.  "He  may  misunderstand  our  being  together 
this  way." 

"But  when  he  learns  that  we  love  each  other,  that 
will  explain  everything." 

"I'm  not  so  sure.  He  doesn't  know  you  as  Lee 
and  Poleon  and  your  father  do.  I  think  we  had  better 
say  nothing  at  all  about — you  and  me — to  any  one." 

"But  why?"  questioned  the  girl,  stopping  abruptly. 
"They  mil  know  it,  anyhow,  when  they  see  us.  I  can't 
conceal  it." 

"I  am  wiser  in  this  than  you  are,"  the  soldier  in 
sisted,  "and  we  mustn't  act  like  lovers;  trust  this  to 
me." 

"Oh,  I  won't  play  that!"  cried  Necia,  petulantly. 
"If  all  this  is  going  to  end  wher.  ^e  get  to  Lee's  cabin, 
we'll  stay  right  here  forever." 

He  was  not  sure  of  aif  the  logic  he  advanced  In  con» 
vincing  her,  but  she  yielded  finally,  saying: 

92 


THE    BURRELL    CODE 

54 Well.  I  suppose  you  know  best,  and,  anyhow,  littles 
should  always  mind." 

They  clung  to  the  divide  for  several  hours,  then  de 
scended  into  the  bed  of  a  stream,  which  they  followed 
until  it  joined  a  larger  one  a  couple  of  miles  below,  and 
there,  sheltered  in  a  grove  of  whispering  firs,  they 
found  Lee's  cabin  nestling  in  a  narrow,  forked  valley. 
Evidently  the  miner  had  selected  a  point  on  the  main 
creek  just  below  the  confluence  of  the  feeders  as  a 
place  in  which  to  prospect,  and  Burrell  fell  to  wonder 
ing  which  one  of  these  smaller  streams  supplied  the 
run  of  gold. 

"There's  no  one  here,"  said  Necia,  gleefully.  "We've 
beat  them  in!  We've  beat  them  in!" 

They  had  been  walking  rapidly  since  dawn,  and,  al 
though  Bun-ell's  watch  showed  two  o'clock,  she  re 
fused  to  halt  for  lunch,  declaring  that  the  others  might 
arrive  at  any  moment ;  so  down  they  went  to  the  lower 
end  of  "  No  Creek  "  Lee's  location,  where  Burrell  blazed 
a  smooth  spot  on  the  down-stream  side  of  a  tree  and 
wrote  thereon  at  Necia 's  dictation.  When  he  had  fin 
ished,  she  signed  her  name,  and  he  witnessed  it,  then 
paced  off  four  hundred  and  forty  steps,  where  he  squared 
a  spruce-tree,  which  she  marked:  "Lower  centre  end 
stake  of  No.  i  below  discovery.  Necia  Gale,  locator." 
She  was  vastly  excited  and  immensely  elated  at  her 
good-fortune  in  acquiring  the  claim  next  to  Lee's,  and 
chattered  like  a  magpie,  filling  the  glades  with  resound 
ing  echoes  and  dancing  about  in  the  bright  sunlight 
that  filtered  through  the  branches. 

"Now  you  stake  the  one  below  mine,"  she  said. 
"It's  just  as  good,  and  maybe  better  —  nobody  can 
tell."  But  he  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  not  going  to  stake  anything,"  said  he. 
93 


THE    BARRIER 

"You  must!"  she  cried,  quickly,  the  sparkle  dying 
from,  her  eyes.  "You  said  you  would,  or  I  never  would 
have  brought  you." 

"I  merely  said  I  would  come  with  you,"  he  cor- 
rected.  "I  did  not  promise  to  take  up  a  claim,  for  I 
don't  think  I  ought  to  do  so.  If  I  were  a  civilian,  it 
would  be  different,  but  this  is  government  land,  and  I 
am  a  part  of  the  government,  as  it  were.  Then,  too, 
in  addition  to  the  question  of  my  right  to  do  it,  there 
would  be  the  certainty  of  making  enemies  of  your 
people,  old  "No  Creek"  and  the  rest,  and  I  can't  af 
ford  that  now.  With  you  it  is  different,  for  you  are 
entitled  to  this  ground.  After  Lee's  friends  have 
shared  in  his  discovery  I  may  change  my  mind." 

All  arguments  and  pleading  were  in  vain;  he  re 
mained  obdurate  and  insisted  on  her  locating  two  oth 
er  claims  for  herself,  one  on  each  of  the  smaller  creeks 
where  they  came  together  above  the  house. 

"But  nobody  ever  stakes  more  than  one  claim  on 
a  gulch,"  objected  the  girl.  "It's  a  custom  of  the 
miners." 

"Then  we'll  call  each  one  of  these  branches  a  dif 
ferent  and  separate  creek,"  he  said.  "The  gold  was 
carried  down  one  of  those  smaller  streams,  and  we 
won't  take  any  chances  on  which  one  it  was.  When 
a  fellow  plays  a  big  game  he  should  play  to  win,  and, 
as  this  means  such  a  great  deal  to  you,  we  won't  over 
look  any  bets." 

Necia  consented,  and  when  her  three  claims  had 
been  properly  located  the  couple  returned  to  the 
cabin  to  get  lunch  and  to  await  with  some  foreboding 
the  coming  of  the  others  and  what  of  good  or  ill  it 
might  bring. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    MAGIC    OP    BEN     STARK 

BEFORE  the  party  came  in  sight,  the  sound  of 
their  voices  reached  the  cabin,  and  Burrell  rose 
nervously  and  sauntered  to  the  door.  Uncertain  how 
this  affair  might  terminate,  he  chose  to  get  first  look 
at  his  enemies,  if  they  should  prove  to  be  such,  real 
izing  the  advantage  that  goes  to  a  man  who  stands 
squarely  on  both  feet. 

The  trail  came  through  the  brush  at  the  rear,  and 
he  heard  Lee  say: 

"This  here's  the  place,  boys — the  shack  ain't  fifty 
yards  away." 

"Likely  looking  gulch,"  Gale  was  heard  to  reply, 
in  his  deep  tones — there  was  a  crackle  of  dead  brush, 
a  sound  as  of  a  man  tripping  and  falling  heavily,  then 
oaths  in  a  voice  that  made  the  Lieutenant  start. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Doret.  "You  mus'  be  tired, 
Meestaire  R-r-unnion.  Better  you  pick  up  your  feet. 
Dat's  t'ree  tarn*  you've — " 

They  emerged  into  the  open  behind  the  house  to 
pause  in  line  back  of  Lee,  who  was  staring  at  the  stove 
pipe  of  his  cabin,  from  which  came  a  wisp  of  smoke. 
It  seemed  to  Burrell  that  they  held  their  position  for 
a  long  time.  Then  he  heard  Lee  say: 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!  Somebody's  here  ahead 
of  us" 

95 


THE   BARRIER 

^ We've  been  beaten,"  growled  Stark,  angrily,  push* 
Bag  past  him  and  coming  round  the  corner,  an  ugly 
iook  in  his  eyes. 

Burrell  was  standing  at  ease  in  the  door,  smoking, 
cue  forearm  resting  on  the  jamb,  his  wide  shoulders 
nearly  filling  the  entrance. 

" Good  -afternoon,"    he   nodded,    pleasantly. 

Lee  answered  him  unintelligibly;  Stark  said  nothing* 
font  Runnion's  exclamation  was  plain, 

"It's  that  damned  blue-belly!" 

"When  did  you  get  here?"  said  Stark,  after  a  pause. 

"A  few  hours  ago," 

"How  did  you  come?"  asked  Lee. 

"Black  Bear  Creek,"  said  the  soldier,  curtly,  at 
which  Runnion  broke  into  profanity. 

"Better  hush,"  Burrell  admonished  him;  "there's 
&  lady  inside,"  and  at  that  instant  Nccia  showed  her 
laughing  face  under  his  armt  while  the  trader  uttered 
Sier  name  in  amazement. 

"Lunch  is  ready,"  she  said.  "We've  been  expect* 
tng  you  for  quite  a  while," 

**Ba  Gar!  Dat's  fonny  t'ing  for  sure,0"  said  Poleon, 
^'Who  tols  you  vbout  dis  strike— eh?" 

e* Mother ;  I  made  her,"  the  girl  answered. 

"Take  off  your  packs  and  come  in,"  Burrell  in- 
irited,  but  Stark  strode  forward. 

"Hold  on  a  minute.  This  don't  look  good  to  me. 
You  say  your  mother  told  you.  I  suppose  you'r* 
Old  Man  Gale's  other  daughter— eh  ?" 

Necia  nodded. 

6 'What  time  of  day  was  it  when  you  learned  about 
this?" 

"Cut  that  out/'  roughly  interjected  Gale,  ?'Do 
fou  think  J  double-crossed  you?" 

06 


THE   MAGIC    OP   BEN   STARK 

The  other  turned  upon  him. 

"It  looks  that  way,  and  I  intend  to  find  out.  You 
yesterday  you  hadn't  told  anybody — " 

"I  didn  t  think  about  the  woman/'  said  the  trader, 
a  trifle  disconcerted,  whereupon  Runnion  gave  vent 
to  an  ironical  sneer. 

"But  here's  your  girl  and  this  man  ahead  of  us.  I 
suppose  there's  others  on  the  ways  too." 

"Nonsense!"  Burrell  cut  in.  "Don't  quarrel  about 
this.  Miss  Gate  got  wind  of  your  secret,  and  beat  you 
at  your  own  game,  so  that  ends  it;  but  there's  plenty 
of  ground  left,  for  all  of  you,  and  no  harm  done,  No 
body  knows  of  this  strike  from  us,  I  can  assure  you." 

"I  call  it  dam'  sleeck  work,"  chuckled  the  Canadian, 
slipping  out  of  his  straps.  "De  nex*  tarn1  I  go  stam- 
pedin'  I  tak*  you  'long,  Necia." 

"Me,  too/'  said  Lee.  "An*  now  I'm  goin'  to  tear 
into  some  of  them  beans  I  smell  a  bilin'  in  yonder/' 

The  others  followed,  although  Stark  and  Runnion 
looked  black  and  had  little  to  say.  It  was  an  uncom 
fortable  meal — every  one  was  ill  at  ease,  Gale,  in  par 
ticular,  was  quiet,  and  ate  less  than  any  of  them.  His 
eyes  sought  Stark's  face  frequently,  and  once  the  blood 
left  his  cheeks  and  his  eyes  blazed  as  he  observed  the 
gambler  eying  Necia,  gazing  at  her  with  the  same 
boldness  he  would  have  used  in  scanning  a  horse. 

"You  are  a  mighty  good-looking  girl  for  a  'blood/" 
remarked  Stark,  at  last. 

"Thank  you/'  she  replied,  simply,  and  the  soldier's 
vague  dislike  of  the  man  crystallized  into  hate  on  the 
instant.  There  was  a  tone  back  of  his  words  that 
seemed  aimed  at  the  trader,  Meade  thought,  but  Gale 
showed  no  sign  of  it,  so  the  meal  was  finished  in  silence, 
after  which  the  five  belated  prospectors  went  out  to 

97 


THE   BARRIER 

snake  their  locations,  for  the  fear  of  interruption 
upon  them  now. 

First  they  went  down-stream,  and,  according  to  their 
agreement,  the  trader  staked  first,  followed  by  Poleon 
and  Stark,  thus  throwing  Runnion's  claim  more  than 
a  mile  distant  from  Lee's  discovery.  From  here  they 
went  up  the  creek  to  find  the  girl's  other  locations,  one 
on  each  branch,  at  which  Stark  sneeringly  remarked 
that  she  had  pre-empted  enough  ground  for  a  full- 
grown  white  woman. 

Runnion's  displeasure  was  even  more  open,  and  he 
fell  into  foul-mouthed  mutterings,  addressing  himself 
to  Poleon  an>  Stark  while  the  trader  was  out  of  ear 
shot. 

"This  affair  don't  smell  right,  and  I  still  think  it's  a 
frame-up/' 

"Bahl"  exclaimed  Doret. 

"The  old  man  sznt  the  girl  on  ahead  of  us  to  blanket 
all  the  good  ground.  That's  what  he  did!" 

"Dat's  fool  talk,"  declared  the  Frenchman. 

44 I'm  not  so  sure,'*  Stark  broke  in.  "You  remember 
he  hung  back  and  wanted  to  go  slow  from  the  start; 
and  didn't  he  ask  us  to  camp  early  last  night?  Looks 
now  as  if  he  did  it  just  to  give  her  time  to  get  in  first. 
He  admitted  that  he  knew  the  Black  Bear  trail,  and  if 
he  lied  about  keeping  his  mouth  shut  to  the  squaw, 
he'd  lie  about  other —  " 

44  Wait  wan  minnit,"  interrupted  Poleon,  his  voice 
as  soft  as  a  woman's.  "  I  tol'  you  dat  1  know  all  'bout 
dis  Black  Bear  Creek,  too — you  'member,  eh?  Wai, 
mebbe  you  t'ink  I'm  traitor,  too*  W'at?  W'y  don? 
you  spik  out?" 

The  three  of  them  were  alone,  and  only  the  sound  of 
Gale's  axe  came  to  them;  but  at  the  light  in  the  Ca* 


THE    MAGIC   OP    BEN    STARE 

aadian's  face  Runnion  hastily  disclaimed  any  such 
thought  on  his  part,  and  Stark  shrugged  his  denial. 

"I  don'  know  you  feller*  at  all,"  continued  Poleon, 
"but  Ole  Man  Gale,  he's  my  frien',  so  I  guess  you  don' 
•  better  talk  no  more  lak*  dat.M 

"Don't  get  sore,"  said  Stark.  "I  simply  say  it 
| looks  bad."  But  the  other  had  turned  his  back  and 
was  walking  on. 

There  are  men  quite  devoid  of  the  ability  to  read 
the  human  face,  and  Runnion  was  of  this  species. 
Moreover,  malice  was  so  bitter  in  his  mouth  that  he 
must  have  it  out,  so  when  they  paused  to  blaze  the 
next  stake  he  addressed  himself  to  Stark  loud  enough 
for  Poleon  to  hear. 

"That  Lieutenant  is  more  of  a  man  than  I  thought 
he  was." 

"How  so?"  inquired  the  older  man. 

"Well,  it  takes  nerve  to  steal  a  girl  for  one  night  and 
then  face  the  father;  but  the  old  man  don't  seem  to 
mind  it  any  more  than  she  does.  I  guess  he  knows 
what  it  means,  all  right." 

Stark  laughed  raucously.  "I  thought  of  that  my 
self,"  he  said. 

"That's  probably  how  Gale  got  his  squaw, "  con 
cluded  Runnion,  with  a  sneer, 

It  seemed  a  full  minute  before  the  Frenchman  gave 
sign  that  he  had  heard,  then  a  strange  cry  broke  from 
his  throat  and  he  began  to  tremble  as  if  with  cold. 
He  was  no  longer  the  singer  of  songs  or  the  man  w*ho 
was  forever  a  boy;  the  mocking  anger  of  a  moment 
ago  was  gone;  in  its  place  was  a  consuming  fury  that 
sucked  the  blood  from  beneath  his  tan,  leaving  him 
the  pallor  of  ashes,  while  his  mouth  twitched  and  his 
head  rolled  slightly  from  side  to  side  like  a  palsied  old 

99 


THE    BARRIER 

man's.  The  red  of  his  lips  was  blanched,  leaving  two 
white  streaks  against  a  faded,  muddy  background, 
through  which  came  strange  and  frightful  oaths  in  a 
bastard  tongue.  Runnion  drew  back,  fearful,  and  the 
older  man  ceased  chopping  and  let  his  axe  hang  loosely 
in  his  hand.  But  evidently  Poleon  meant  no  violence, 
for  he  allowed  the  passion  to  run  from  him  freely  until 
it  had  spent  its  vigor,  then  said  to  Runnion: 

"M'sieUs  eider  you  are  brave  man  or  dam'  fool." 

"What  dc  you  mean,  Frenchy?"  said  the  man  ad 
dressed,  uneasily. 

"Somebody  goin'  die  for  w?at  you  say  jus"  now. 
Mebbe  its  goin*  be  you,  mjsieu:  mebbe  it's  goin1  be 
him;  I  can't  tell  yet,  but  I'm  hope  an'  pray  it's  goin' 
c  yout  biccause  I  t'ink  w'at  you  say  is  a  lie,  an5  no 
body  can  spik  dose  kin'  of  lie  Tx>ut  Necia  Gale.89 

He  went  crashing  blindly  through  the  underbrush, 
his  head  wagging,  his  shoulders  slumped  loosely  for 
ward  like  those  of  a  drunken  man,  his  lips  framing 
words  they  could  not  understand. 

When  he  had  disappeared  Runnion  drew  a  deep 
breath. 

"I  guess  I've  framed  something  for  Mister  Ptirrell 
this  time." 

"You  go  about  it  queer,"  said  Stark.  "I'd  rather 
tackle  a  gang-saw  than  a  man  like  Poleon  Doret,  Your 
frame-up  may  work  double." 

"Huh!  No  chance  o  The  soldier  was  out  all  night 
alone  with  that  half-breed  girl,  and  anybody  can  see 
she's  crazy  about  hinL  What's  the  answer?" 

"Well,  she's  mighty  pretty,"  agreed  the  other, 
"most  too  pretty  for  a  mixed  blood,  but  you  can't 
make  that  Frenchman  believe  she's  wrong." 

?6Why9  he  believes  it  now/*  chuckled  Runnion.  "o* 
too 


THE    MAGIC    OP    BEN    STARK 

at  least  he's  jealous,  and  that's  just  as  good.  Those 
two  will  have  trouble  before  dark.  I  wish  they  would 
— then  I'd  have  a  chance." 

"Have  you  got  your  eye  on  her,  too?" 

"Sure!     Do  you  blame  me?" 

"No,  but  she's  too  good  for  you." 

•'Then  she's  too  good  for  them,  I  think  111  enter 
the  running." 

"Better  stay  out,"  the  gambler  ad  vised;  "you'll  have 
•ore  feet  before  you  finish.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't 
like  her  father  any  better  than  you  like  her  lovers — " 

"Well,  it's  mutual.  I  can  see  Gale  hates  you  like 
poison/1 

" — and  I  don't  intend  to  see  him  and  his  tribe  hog 
all  the  best  ground  hereabouts," 

"They've  already  done  it.     You  can't  stop  them." 

Before  answering,  Stark  listened  for  the  trader,,  but 
evidently  Gale  had  finished  his  task  and  returned  to 
the  shack,  for  there  was  neither  sign  nor  sound  of 
frim. 

"Yes,  I  can  stop  them,"  said  Stark.  "I  want  the 
ground  that  girl  has  staked,  and  I'm  going  to  get  it. 
It  lies  next  to  Lee's,  and  it's  sure  to  be  rich,  ours  is 
so  far  away  it  may  not  be  worth  the  recorder's  fees. 
This  creek  may  be  as  spotted  as  a  coach -dog,  so  I 
don't  intend  to  take  any  chances." 

"She  made  her  locations  legally,"  said  Runnion. 

"You  leave  that  to  me.  When  will  the  other  boys 
be  here?" 

"  To-morrow  morning.  I  told  them  to  follow  about 
four  hours  behind^  and  not  to  run  in  on  us  till  we  had 
finished.  They'll  camp  a  few  miles  down  the  creek, 
and  be  in  early." 

"You  couldn't  get  but  three,  eh?" 

IOX 


THE    BARRIER 

ce That's  all  I  could  find  who  would  agree  to  give  u& 
halt" 

4 'Can  we  count  on  them?" 

"Huh!"  the  other  grunted.  "They  worked  with 
me  and  Soapy  on  the  Skagway  trail." 

"Good,  Five  against  three,  not  counting  the  girl 
and  the  Lieutenant/'  Stark  mused,  "Well,  that  will 
do  it,"  He  outlined  his  plan,  then  the  two  returned 
to  the  cabin  to  find  Lee  cooking  supper  Poleon  was 
there  with  the  others*  but,  except  for  his  silence,  he 
showed  no  sign  of  what  had  taken  place  that  afternoon. 

Stark  developed  a  loquacious  mood  after  supper, 
devoting  himself  entirely  to  Neciav  in  whom  he  seemed 
to  take  great  interest.  He  was  an  engaging  talker, 
with  a  peculiar  knack  of  suggestion  in  story-telling — 
an  unconscious  halting  and  elusiveness  that  told  more 
than  words  could  express — and,  knowing  his  West  so 
well,  he  fascinated  the  girl,  who  hung  upon  his  tales 
with  flattering  eagerness* 

Poleon  had  finished  several  pipes,  and  now  sat  in 
the  shadows  in  the  open  doorway,  apparently  tired 
and  dejected,  though  his  eyes  shone  like  diamonds 
and  roved  from  one  to  the  other.  Half  unconsciously 
he  heard  Stark  saying: 

"This  girl  was  about  your  size,  but  not  so  dark. 
However,  you  remind  me  of  her  in  some  ways — that's 
why  it  puts  her  in  my  mind,  I  suppose  She  was 
about  your  age  at  the  time — nineteen  *? 

"Ohf  I'm  not  eighteen  yet,"  said  Necia, 

"Well,  she  was  a  fine  woman,  anyhow,  the  best  that 
ever  set  foot  in  Chandon,  and  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  talk  when  she  chose  young  Bennett  over  the  Gay- 
lord  man,  for  Bennett  had  been  running  second  best 
from  the  start,  and  everybody  thought  it  was  settled 

IO9 


THE    MAGIC    OF    BEN    STARK 

Between  her  and  the  other  one.     However,  they  were 
married  quietly." 

The  story  did  not  interest  the  Canadian ;  his  mind  was 
in  too  great  agitation  to  care  for  dead  tales;  his  heart 
burned  within  him  too  fiercely,  and  he  felt  too  great  a 
desire  to  put  his  hands  to  work.  As  he  watched  Bur- 
rell  and  Runnion  bend  over  the  table  looking  at  a  lit 
tle  can  of  gold-dust  that  Lee  had  taken  from  under 
his  bunk,  his  eyes  grew  red  and  bloodshot  beneath  his 
hat-brim.  Which  one  of  the  two  would  it  be,  he  won 
dered.  From  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  saw  Gale  rise 
from  Lee's  bed,  where  he  had  stretched  himself  to 
smoke,  and  take  his  six-shooter  from  his  beit,  then  re 
move  the  knotted  bandanna  from  his  neck,  and  begin 
to  clean  the  gun,  his  head  bowed  over  it  earnestly,  his 
face  in  the  shadow.  He  had  ever  been  a  careful  and 
methodical  man,  reflected  Poleon,  and  evidently  would 
not  go  to  sleep  with  his  fire-arm  in  bad  condition. 

"Nobody  imagined  that  Gay  lord  would  cause 
trouble,"  Stark  was  saying,  "for  he  didn't  seem  to  be 
a  jealous  sort,  just  stupid  and  kind  of  heavy -witted; 
but  one  night  he  took  advantage  of  Bennett's  absence 
and  sneaked  up  to  the  house/'  The  story-teller  paused, 
and  Necia,  who  was  under  the  spell  of  his  recital,  urged 
him  on: 

"Yes,  yes.  What  happened  then?  Go  on."  But 
Stark  stared  gloomily  at  his  hands,  and  held  his  silence 
for  a  full  minute,  the  tale  appearing  to  have  awakened 
more  than  a  fleeting  interest  in  him. 

"It  was  one  of  the  worst  killings  that  ever  happened 
in  those  parts,"  he  continued.  "Bennett  came  back 
to  find  his  wife  murdered  and  the  kid  gone." 

*'Oh!M  said  the  girl,  in  a  shocked  voice. 

there  was  the  deuce  of  a  time.    The  town 
103 


BARRIER 

rose  up  in  a  body,  and  we — you  see,  I  happened  to  be 
there — we  followed  the  man  for  weeks.  We  trailed 
him  and  the  kid  clear  over  into  the  Nevada  desert 
where  we  lost  them." 

"Poor  man!" 

"Poor  man?"  The  story-teller  raised  his  eyes  and 
laughed  sinisterly.  " I  don't  see  where  that  comes  in." 

"And  you  never  caught  him?" 

"No.     Not  yet." 

"He  died  of  thirst  in  the  desert,  maybe,  he  and  the 
little  one." 

" That's  what  we  thought  at  the  time,  but  I  don't 
believe  it  now." 

"How  so?" 

"Well,  I've  crossed  his  trail  since  then.  No.  Gay- 
lord  is  alive  to-day,  and  so  is  the  girl.  Some  time  we'll 
meet — "  His  voice  gave  out,  and  he  stared  again  at 
the  floor. 

"Couldn't  the  little  girl  be  traced?"  said  Necia. 
"What  was  her  name?" 

Stark  made  to  speak,  but  the  word  was  never  uttered, 
for  there  came  a  deafening  roar  that  caused  Lee's 
candle  to  leap  and  flicker  and  the  air  inside  the  cabin 
to  strike  the  occupants  like  a  blow.  Instantly  there 
was  confusion,  and  each  man  sprang  to  his  feet  crying 
out  affrightedly,  for  the  noise  had  come  with  utter 
unexpectedness. 

"My  God,  I've  killed  him!"  cried  Gale,  and  with  one 
jump  he  cleared  half  the  room  and  was  beside  Stark, 
while  his  revolver  lay  on  the  floor  where  he  had  been 
Bitting. 

"What  is   it?"  exclaimed  Burrell;   but  there  was 

no  need  to  ask,  for  powder  -  smoke  was  beginning  to 

]11  the  sooxn  and  tt\e  trader's  face  gave  ooewec.     I* 


;r*B   MAGIC   OP   BBN   STARI 

wui  whiter  than  mat  of  his  daughter,  whc  had  crouched 
fearfully  against  the  wall,  and  he  shook  like  a  man 
with  ague.  But  Sta^K  stood  unhurt,  and  more  com 
posed  than  r.ny  of  them;  following  the  first  bound 
from  his  chair,  he  had  relapsed  into  his  customary 
quiet.  There  had  blazed  up  one  momentary  flash  or 
suspicion  and  anger,  but  it  died  straightway,  for  nr 
man  could  have  beheld  the  trader  and  not  felt  con- 
trition.  His  condition  was  pitiable,  and  the  sight  of 
a  strong  man  overcome  is  not  pleasant;  when  it  was 
seen  that  nc  harm  had  been  done  the  others  strove  to 
make  light  of  the  accident. 

"Get  together,  all  of  you!  It's  nothing  to  be  ex 
cited  over,"  said  Stark. 

"How  did  it  happen?"  Runnion  finally  asked  Gale, 
who  had  sunk  limply  upon  the  edge  of  the  bunk;  but 
when  the  old  man  undertook  to  answer  his  words  were 
unintelligible,  and  he  shook  his  head  helplessly. 

Stark  laid  his  finger  on  the  hole  that  the  bullet  had 
bored  in  the  log  close  to  where  he  was  sitting,  and 
laughed. 

"Never  mind,  old  man,  it  missed  me  by  six  inches. 
You  know  there  never  was  a  bullet  that  could  kill  me. 
I'm  six-shooter  proof." 

"Wha'd  I  tell  you?"  triumphantly  ejaculated  Lee, 
turning  his  one  eye  upon  the  Lieutenant.  "You 
laughed  at  me,  didn't  you?" 

"I'm  beginning  to  believe  it  myself,"  declared  the 
soldier. 

"It's  a  cinch,"  said  Stark,  positively. 

Doret,  of  all  in  the  cabin,  had  said  nothing.  Seated 
apart  from  the  others,  he  had  seen  the  '^iiair  from  a 
distance,  as  it  were,  and  now  ste^^ed  to  the  bed  to 
Uy  his  hand  on  Gale's  shoulder. 

105 


THE    BARRIER 

"Brace  up,  John!  Sacre"  bleu!  Your  face  look  lak* 
flour.  Come  outside  an'  get  liT  air." 

"It  will  do  you  good,  father,"  urged  Necia. 

The  trader  silently  rose,  picked  up  his  hat,  and 
shambled  out  into  the  night  behind  the  Frenchman. 

"The  old  man  takes  it  hard,"  said  Lee,  shaking  his 
head,  and  Burrell  remarked: 

"I've  seen  things  like  that  in  army  quarters,  and  the 
fellow  who  accidentally  discharges  his  gun  invariably 
gets  a  greater  shock  than  his  companion." 

"I  call  it  damned  careless,  begging  your  pardon. 
Miss  Necia,"  said  Runnion. 

Poleon  led  his  friend  down  the  trail  for  half  a  mile 
without  speaking,  till  Gale  had  regained  a  grip  of  him 
self  and  muttered,  finally: 

"I  never  did  such  a  thing  before,  Poleon,  never  in 
all  my  life.* 

The  young  man  turned  squarely  and  faced  him,  the 
starlight  illumining  their  faces  dimly. 

"Why?"  said  Doret. 

"Why?"  echoed  Gale,  with  a  start.  "Well,  because 
I'm  careful,  I  suppose." 

"Why?"  insisted  the  Frenchman. 

" I— I— I—    What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Don'  lie  wit'  me,  John.  I'm  happen  to  be  watch 
you  underneat*  my  hat  w'en  you  turn  roun*  for  see  if 
anybody  lookin'." 

"You  saw?" 

"Yes." 

"I  thought  you  were  asleep,"  said  Gale. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THB   KNIFB 

IN  every  community,  be  it  never  so  small,  there  are 
undesirable  citizens;  and,  while  the  little  party  was 
still  at  breakfast  on  the  following  morning,  three  such 
members  of  society  came  around  the  cabin  and  let 
fall  their  packs,  greeting  the  occupants  boisterously. 

"Well,  well!"  said  Lee,  coming  to  the  door.  "You're 
travellin*  kind  of  early,  ain't  you?" 

"Yes — early  and  late,"  one  of  them  laughed,  while 
the  other  two  sprawled  about  as  if  to  rest. 

"How  far  are  you  goin'?" 

"Not  far,"  the  spokesman  answered. 

Now  in  the  North  there  is  one  formality  that  must 
be  observed  with  friend  or  enemy,  and,  though  Lee 
knew  these  men  for  what  they  were,  he  said: 

"Better  have  some  breakfast,  anyhow." 

"We  just  ate."  There  was  an  uncomfortable  pause, 
then  the  speaker  continued:  "Look  here.  It's  no  use 
to  flush  around.  We  want  a  piece  of  this  creek." 

"What  are  you  goin*  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"Cut  that  out,  Lee.     We're  on." 

"Who  wised  you  up  to  this?"  inquired  the  miner, 
angrily,  for  he  had  other  friends  besides  those  present 
whom  he  wished  to  profit  by  this  strike,  and  he  had 
fcoped  to  keep  out  this  scum. 

"Never  mind  who  put  us  Jerry.  We're  here,  ain't  we  ?'* 
107 


THE    BARRIER 

Stark  spoke  up.  "You  can't  keep  news  of  a  gold 
strike  when  the  wind  blows,  Lee.  It  travels  on  the 
breeze." 

The  harm  was  done,  and  there  was  no  use  in  con 
cealment,  so  Lee  reluctantly  told  them  of  his  discovery 
and  warned  them  of  the  stakes  already  placed. 

"And  see  here,  you  fellers,"  he  concluded,  "I've 
been  forty  years  at  this  game  and  never  had  a  creek 
named  after  me,  but  this  one  is  goin'  to  be  called  '  "  No 
Creek  "  Lee  Creek  '  or  I  fight.  Does  it  go  ?" 

"Sure,  that's  a  good  name,  and  we'll  vote  for  it." 

"Then  go  as  far  as  you  like,"  said  the  miner,  dis 
missing  them  curtly. 

"I'll  step  along  with  the  boys  and  show  them  where 
our  upper  stakes  are,"  volunteered  Stark,  and  Runnion 
offered  to  do  the  same,  adding  that  it  were  best  to 
make  sure  of  no  conflict  so  early  in  the  game.  The 
five  disappeared  into  the  woods,  leaving  the  others  at 
the  cabin  to  make  preparations  for  the  homeward  trip. 

"That  man  who  did  the  talking  is  a  tin-horn  gam 
bler  who  drifted  in  a  month  ago,  the  same  as  Runnion, 
and  the  others  ain't  much  better,"  said  Gale,  when  they 
had  gone.  "Seems  like  the  crooks  always  beat  the 
straight  men  in." 

"Never  knowed  it  to  fail,"  Lee  agreed.  "There's 
a  dozen  good  men  in  camp  I'd  like  to  see  in  on  this  find, 
but  it  '11  be  too  late  'gin  we  get  back." 

"Dose  bum  an'  saloon  feller  got  all  de  bes'  claims  at 
Klondike,"  said  Poleon.  "I  guess  it's  goin'  be  de 
same  here." 

"I  don't  like  the  look  of  this,"  observed  the  Lieu 
tenant,  thoughtfully.  "I'm  afraid  there's  some  kind  of 
a  job  on  foot." 

"There's  nothing  they  can  do,"  Gale  answered. 

108 


THE    KNIFE 

*  We've  got  our  ground  staked  out,  and  it's  up  to  them 
to  choose  what's  left." 

They  were  nearly  ready  to  set  out  for  Flambeau 
when  the  five  men  returned. 

"Before  you  go/'  said  Stark,  "I  think  we'd  better 
organize  our  mining  district.  There  are  enough  pres 
ent  to  do  it." 

44  We  can  make  the  kind  of  laws  we  want  before  the 
gang  comes  along,"  Runnion  chimed  in,  "  and  elect  a 
recorder  who  will  give  us  a  square  deal." 

44 I'll  agree  if  we  give  Lee  the  job,"  said  Gale.  "It's 
coming  to  him  as  the  discoverer,  and  I  reckon  the  money 
will  be  handy,  seeing  the  hard  luck  he's  played  in." 

"That's  agreeable  to  me,"  Stark  replied,  and  pro 
ceeded  forthwith  to  call  a  miners'  meeting,  being  him 
self  straightway  nominated  as  chairman  by  one  of  the 
strangers.  There  was  no  objection,  so  he  went  in,  as 
did  Lee,  who  was  made  secretary,  with  instructions  to 
write  out  the  business  of  the  meeting,  together  with  the 
by-laws  as  they  were  passed. 

The  group  assembled  in  the  cleared  space  before  the 
cabin  to  make  rules  and  regulations  governing  the  dis 
trict,  for  it  is  a  custom  in  all  mining  sections  removed 
from  authority  for  the  property  holders  thus  to  make 
local  laws  governing  the  size  of  claims,  the  amount  of 
assessment  work,  the  size  of  the  recorder's  fees,  the 
character  of  those  who  may  hold  mines,  and  such  other 
questions  as  arise  to  affect  their  personal  or  property 
interests.  In  the  days  prior  to  the  establishment  of 
courts  and  the  adoption  of  a  code  of  laws  for  Alaska, 
the  entire  country  was  governed  in  this  way,  even  to 
the  adjudication  of  criminal  actions.  It  was  the  primi 
tive  majority  rule  that  prevails  in  every  new  land,  and 
the  courts  later  recognized  and  approved  the  laws  so 

109 


THE    BARRIER 

made  and  administered,  even  when  they  differed  in 
every  district,  and  even  when  these  statutes  were 
often  grotesque  and  ridiculous.  As  a  whole,  however, 
they  were  direct  in  their  effect  and  worked  no  hardship; 
in  fact,  government  by  miners'  meeting  is  looked  upon 
to  this  day,  by  those  who  lived  under  it,  as  vastly  superior 
to  the  complicated  machinery  which  later  took  its  place. 

The  law  permits  six  or  more  people  to  organize  a 
mining  district  and  adopt  articles  of  government,  so 
this  instance  was  quite  ordinary  and  proper,, 

Lee  had  come  by  his  learning  slowly,  and  he  wrote 
after  the  fashion  of  a  school-boy,  who  views  his  char 
acters  from  every  angle  and  follows  their  intricacies 
with  corresponding  movements  of  the  tongue,  hence 
the  business  of  the  meeting  progressed  slowly, 

It  was  of  wondrous  interest  to  Necia  to  be  an  in 
tegral  part  of  such  important  matters,  and  she  took 
pride  in  voting  on  every  question^  but  Burrell,  who 
observed  the  proceedings  from  neutral  ground,  could 
not  shake  off  the  notion  that  all  was  not  right.  Things 
moved  too  smoothly.  It  looked  as  if  there  had  been 
a  rehearsal.  Poleon  and  the  trader,  however,  seemed 
not  to  notice  it,  and  Lee  was  wallowing  to  the  waist 
in  his  own  troubles,  so  the  young  man  kept  his  eyes 
open  and  waited. 

The  surprise  came  when  they  had  completed  the 
organization  of  the  district  and  had  nearly  finished 
adopting  by-laws.  It  was  so  boldly  attempted  and 
so  crude  in  its  working-out  that  it  seemed  almost 
laughable  to  the  soldier,  until  he  saw  these  men  were 
in  deadly  earnest  and  animated  by  the  cruelest  of 
motives.  Moreover,  it  showed  the  first  glimpse  of 
Stark's  spite  against  the  trader,  which  the  Lieutenant 
had  divined. 

no 


THE    KNIFE 

Runnion  moved  the  adoption  of  a  rule  that  no  wom 
en  be  allowed  to  locate  mining  claims,  and  one  of  the 
strangers  seconded  it. 

"What's  that?"  said  Lee,  raising  his  one  eye  from 
the  note-book  in  which  he  was  transcribing. 

"It  isn't  right  to  let  women  in  on  a  man's  game," 
said  Runnion. 

"That's  my  idea,"  echoed  the  seconder,, 

"I  s'pose  this  is  aimed  at  my  girl,*'  said  Gale,  spring 
ing  to  his  feet.  "I  might  have  known  you  bums  were 
tip  to  some  crooked  work." 

Poleon  likewise  rose  and  ranged  himself  with  the 
trader. 

"Ba  Gar  I  I  don'  stan*  for  dat,"  said  he,  excitedly. 
"You  want  for  jump  Necia's  claims,  eh?" 

"As  long  as  I'm  chairman  we'll  have  no  rough 
work,"  declared  Stark,  glaring  at  them.  "If  you 
want  trouble,  you  two,  I  reckon  you  can  have  it,  but, 
whether  you  do  or  not,  the  majority  is  going  to  rule, 
and  we'll  make  what  laws  we  want  to." 

He  took  no  pains  now  to  mask  his  dislike  of  Gale, 
who  began  to  move  towards  him  in  his  do^ed,  reso 
lute  way  Necia,  observing  them,  hastened  to  her 
father's  side,  for  that  which  she  sensed  in  the  bearing 
of  both  men  quite  overcame  her  indignation  at  this 
blow  against  herself. 

"No,  no,  don't  have  any  trouble,"  she  pleaded,  as 
she  clung  to  the  trader.  "For  my  sake,  daddy,  sit 
down."  Then  she  whispered  fiercely  into  his  ear:  "Can't 
you  see  he's  trying  to  make  you  fight?  There's  too 
many  of  them.  Wait!  Wait!" 

Burrell  attempted  to  speak,  but  Stark,  who  was 
presiding,  turned  upon  him  fiercely: 

"Now  this  is  one  time  when  you  can't  butt  in, 
in 


THE    BARRIER 

Mr.  Soldier  Man.  This  is  our  business.  Is  that 
plain?" 

The  Lieutenant  realized  that  he  had  no  place  in  this 
discussion,  and  yet  their  move  was  so  openly  brazen 
that  he  could  restrain  himself  with  difficulty.  A  mo 
ment  later  he  saw  the  futility  of  interference,  when 
Stark  continued,  addressing  the  trader: 

"This  isn't  aimed  at  you  in  particular,  Gale,  nor  at 
your  girl,  for  a  motion  to  disqualify  her  isn't  necessary. 
She  isn't  old  enough  to  hold  mining  property." 

"She's  eighteen,"  declared  the  trader. 

"Not  according  to  her  story." 

"Well,  I  can  keep  her  claims  for  her  till  she  gets 
of  age." 

"We've  just  fixed  it  so  you  can't,"  grinned  Runnion, 
cunningly.  "No  man  can  hold  more  than  one  claim 
on  a  creek.  You  voted  for  that  yourself." 

Too  late,  Gale  saw  the  trick  by  which  Stark  had 
used  him  to  rob  his  own  daughter.  If  he  and  his 
two  friends  had  declined  to  be  a  part  of  this  meeting, 
the  others  could  not  have  held  it,  and  before  another 
assembly  could  have  been  called  the  creek  would  have 
been  staked  from  end  to  end,  from  rim  to  rim,  by  honest 
men,  over  whom  no  such  action  could  pass;  but,  as  it 
was,  his  own  votes  had  been  used  to  sew  him  up  in  a 
mesh  of  motions  and  resolutions. 

"No  Creek"  Lee  had  the  name  of  a  man  slow  in 
speech  and  action,  and  one  who  roused  himself  to 
anger  deliberately,  much  as  a  serpent  stings  itself  into 
a  painful  fury;  but  now  it  was  apparent  that  he  was 
boiling  over,  for  he  stammered  and  halted  and  blurted 
explosively. 

"You're  a  bunch  of  rascals,  all  of  you,  try-in*  to  down 
a  pore  girl  and  get  her  ground;  but  who  put  ye  wise 

112 


THE    KNIFE 

to  this  thing,  in  the  first  place  ?  Who  found  this  gold  ? 
Just  because  there's  enough  of  you  to  vote  that  mo 
tion  through,  that  don't  make  it  legal,  not  by  a 
damned  sight,  and  it  won't  hold,  because  I  won't  write 
it  in  the  book.  You — you — "  He  glared  at  them 
malevolently,  searching  his  mind  for  an  epithet  suffi 
ciently  vile,  and,  finding  it,  spat  it  out  —  "dress 
makers!" 

So  this  was  why  both  Stark  and  Runnion  had  gone 
up  the  creek  with  the  three  new  men,  thought  Burrell. 
No  doubt  they  had  deliberately  arranged  the  whole  thing 
so  that  the  new  arrivals  could  immediately  relocate  each 
of  Necia's  claims — the  pick  of  all  the  ground  outside 
Lee's  discovery,  and  the  surest  to  be  valuable — and  that 
Stark  would  share  in  the  robbery.  He  or  Runnion,  or 
both  of  them,  had  broken  Lee's  oath  of  secrecy  even 
before  leaving  camp,  which  accounted  for  the  presence 
of  these  thugs;  and  now,  as  he  revolved  the  situation 
rapidly  in  his  mind,  the  soldier  looked  up  at  a  sudden 
thought.  Poleon  had  begun  to  speak,  and  from  his 
appearance  it  seemed  possible  that  he  might  not  cease 
with  words;  moreover,  it  was  further  evident  that 
they  were  all  intent  on  the  excited  Frenchman  and  had 
no  eyes  for  the  Lieutenant.  Carefully  slipping  around 
the  corner  of  the  cabin,  and  keeping  the  house  between 
him  and  the  others,  Burrell  broke  into  a  swift  run,  mak 
ing  the  utmost  possible  speed  for  fear  they  should 
miss  him  and  guess  his  purpose,  or,  worse  yet,  finish 
their  discussion  and  adjourn  before  he  could  complete 
his  task.  He  was  a  light  man  on  his  feet,  and  he  dodged 
through  the  forest,  running  more  carelessly  the  farther 
he  went,  visiting  first  the  upper  claims,  then,  making  a 
wide  detour  of  the  cabin,  he  came  back  to  the  initial 
stake  of  Necia's  lower  claim,  staggering  from  his 


THE    BARRIER 

exertions,  his  lungs  bursting  from  the  strain.  He  had 
covered  nearly  a  mile,  but,  even  so,  he  laughed  grimly 
as  he  walked  back  towards  the  cabin,  for  it  was  a  game 
worth  playing,  and  he  was  glad  to  take  a  hand  on  the 
side  of  the  trader  and  the  girl.  Coming  within  earshot, 
he  heard  the  meeting  vote  to  adjourn.  It  could  not 
have  terminated  more  opportunely  had  he  held  a  stop 
watch  on  it. 

From  the  look  of  triumph  on  Runnion's  face,  the 
Lieutenant  needed  no  glance  at  Gale  or  Poleon  or 
Necia  to  know  that  the  will  of  the  majority  had  pre 
vailed,  and  that  the  girl's  importunities  had  restrained 
her  advocates  from  a  resort  to  violence.  She  looked 
very  forlorn,  like  a  little  child  just  robbed  and  deceived, 
with  the  shock  of  its  first  great  disillusionment  still 
fresh  in  its  eyes. 

Runnion  addressed  the  other  conspirators  loudly. 

"Well,  boys,  there  are  three  good  claims  open  for 
relocation.  I'm  sorry  I  can't  stake  one  of  them." 

"They  won't  lie  open  long,"  said  one  of  the  un 
desirable  citizens,  starting  to  turn  down-stream  while 
his  two  companions  made  for  the  opposite  direction. 
But  Burrell  stopped  them. 

"Too  late,  boys.  Your  little  game  went  wrong. 
Now!  Now!  Don't  get  excited.  Whew!  I  had  quite 
a  run." 

Gale  paused  in  his  tracks  and  looked  at  the  young 
man  queer ly. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I've  jumped  those  claims  myself." 

"You  jumped  them!"  cried  Necia. 

"Sure!     I  changed  my  mind  about  staking." 

"It's  a  lie!"  cried  Runnion,  at  which  Burrell  whirled 
on  him. 

114 


THE    KNIFE 

"I've  been  waiting  for  this,  Runnion — ever  since 
you  came  back.  Now — " 

"I  mean  you  haven't  had  time,"  the  other  tem 
porized,  hurriedly. 

"Oh,  that  sounds  better!  If  you  don't  believe  me 
take  a  look  for  yourself;  you'll  find  my  notice  just  be 
neath  Miss  Gale's."  Then  to  "No  Creek  "  Lee  he  con 
tinued,  "Kindly  record  them  for  me  so  there  will  be 
no  question  of  priority." 

"I'll  be  damned  if  I  do!"  said  the  belligerent  record 
er.  "You're  worse 'n  these  crooks.  That  ground  be 
longs  to  Necia  Gale." 

Up  to  this  time  Stark  had  remained  silent,  his  im 
passive  face  betraying  not  a  shadow  of  chagrin,  for 
he  was  a  good  loser ;  but  now  he  spoke  at  large. 

"Anybody  who  thinks  the  American  army  is  asleep 
is  crazy."  Then  to  Burrell,  "You  certainly  are  a  nice 
young  man  to  double-cross  your  friends  like  that." 

"You're  no  friend  of  mine,"  Meade  retorted. 

"  I  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  double-crossed  you,  Stark,  nobody  else." 

The  Kentuckian  glared  at  him  with  a  look  like  that 
which  Runnion  had  seen  in  his  face  on  that  first  day 
at  the  trading-post.  The  thought  of  these  five  men 
banded  together  to  rob  this  little  maid  had  caused  a 
giddiness  to  rise  up  in  him,  and  his  passions  were  be 
ginning  to  whirl  and  dance. 

"There's  no  use  mouthing  words  about  it,"  said  he. 
*' These  thugs  are  your  tools,  and  you  tried  to  steal 
that  ground  because  it's  sure  to  be  rich." 

Stark  exclaimed  angrily,  but  the  other  gave  him 
no  time  to  break  in. 

"Now,  don't  get  rough,  because  that  is  my  game, 
and  I'd  be  pleased  enough  to  take  you  back  a  prisoner." 

"5 


THE   BARRIER 

Then  turning  to  Lee,  he  said:  "Don't  make  me  force 
you  to  record  my  locations.  I  staked  those  cla;ms  for 
Miss  Galef  and  I'll  deed  them  to  her  when  sue  turns 
eighteen," 

Poleon  Doret  called  to  Runnion:  "M'sieu,you  'mem 
ber  w'at  I  tol'  you  yestidday  ?  I'm  begin  for  t'ink  it's 
goin'  be  you," 

The  man  paled  in  his  anger,  but  said  nothing.  Necia 
clapped  her  hands  gleefully. 

Seeing  that  the  game  had  gone  against  him9  Stark 
got  his  feelings  under  control  quickly ,  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders  as  he  turned  away. 

"You're  in  the  wrong,  Lieutenant/'  he  remarked; 
44 but  I  don't  want  any  trouble0  YouVe  got  the  law 
with  you/k  Then  to  Runnion  and  the  others  he  saida 
"Well,  I'm  ready  to  hit  the  trail/' 

When  they  had  shouldered  their  packs  and  disap 
peared  down  the  valley,  Gale  held  out  his  hand  to  the 
soldier*  " Young  man,  I  reckon  you  and  I  will  be 
friends." 

a  Thank  you/*  said  Burrell,  taking  the  offer  of  friend 
ship  which  he  knew  was  genuine  at  last. 

•"I'm  in  on  that!"  said  "No  Creek"  Lee;  "you're  all 
right!" 

Poleon  had  been  watching  Stark 's  party  disappear 8 
but  now  he  turned  and  addressed  the  young  soldier. 

"You  mak'  some  enemies  to-day,  M'sieu." 

"That's  right,"  agreed  Lee.  "Ben  Stark  will  never 
let  up  on  you  now," 

"Very  wellr  that  is  his  privilege.8' 

"You  don't  savvy  what  it  means  to  get  him  down 
on  you,"  insisted  Lee.  "He'll  frame  things  up  to  suit 
himself ,  then  pick  a  row  with  you.  He's  the  quick 
est  man  on  a  trigger  in  the  West,  but  he  won't  nevet 

116 


THE   KNIFE 

nake  no  open  play,  only  just  devil  the  life  out  of  yota 
with  little  things  till  you  flare  up,  then  he'll  down  you. 
That's  how  he  killed  the  gold  commissionei  back  in 
British  Columbia." 

Necia  had  said  little  so  far,  but  the  look  in  her  eyes 
repaid  the  soldier  for  his  undertaking  in  her  behalf,  and 
for  any  mischief  that  might  ensue  from  it..  She  came 
forward  and  laid  her  hands  upon  his. 

"Promise  that  you  won't  have  trouble  with  him," 
she  begged,  anxiously,  "for  it's  all  my  fault,  and  I'd 
— I'd  always  blame  myself  if  any  hurt  came  to  you. 
Promise !  Won't  you  ?" 

"Don't  worry,  daughter,"  reassured  Gale.  "There's 
nothing  Stark  can  do,  and  whatever  happens  we're 
with  the  Lieutenant.  He's  our  kind  of  people." 

Burrell  liked  this  grizzled  old  fellow  with  the  watch 
ful  eyes,  and  was  glad  now  that  he  could  grip  his  hand 
and  face  him  squarely  with  no  guilt  upon  his  con 
science. 

By  this  time  Doret  had  finished  with  their  blankets, 
and  the  four  set  out  for  town,  but  instead  of  following 
the  others  they  accepted  Necia  as  guide  and  chose  the 
trail  to  Black  Bear  Creek.  They  had  not  gone  far  be 
fore  she  took  occasion  to  lag  behind  with  the  Lieutenant. 

**I  couldn't  thank  you  before  all  those  people — they 
would  have  read  our  secret — but  you  know  how  I  feel, 
don't  you,  Meade?" 

"Why!     It  was  a  simple  thing — " 

"It  was  splendid  when  you  defied  them.  My,  what 
a  fierce  you  arel  Oh,  boy!  What  if  something  should 
happen  to  you  over  this!" 

"But  there's  no  chance.  It's  all  done,  and  you'll 
have  your  fine  dresses  and  be  able  to  hold  your  nose 
just  QA  high  as  you  want." 

Ml 


THE   BARRIER 

"Whatever  I  get  I  will  owe  to  you.  I — I've  been 
thinking.  Suppose — well,  suppose  you  keep  two  of 
those  claims;  they  are  sure  to  be  rich — " 

"Why,  Necia!"  he  exclaimed. 

"They're  yours,  and  I  have  no  right  to  them  undea 
the  law.  Of  course  it  would  be  very  handsome  ol 
you  to  give  me  one — the  poorest.*' 

"You  ought  to  have  your  ears  boxed/"  he  laughed 
at  her. 

"I  aon't  see  why.  You — you — may  be  very  pool, 
for  all  I  know." 

"I  am,"  he  declared,  "but  not  poor  enough  to  takf 
payment  for  a  favor." 

"Well,  then,  if  they  are  really  mine  to  do  with  as  i 
please,  I'll  sell  one  to  you — " 

"Thanks.  I  couldn't  avail  myself  of  the  offer/'  he 
said,  with  mock  hauteur. 

"If  you  were  a  business  man  instead  of  a  fighting 
person  you  would  listen  to  my  proposition  before 
you  declined  it.  I'll  make  the  price  right r  and  you 
may  pay  me  when  we  get  behind  yonder  clump  of 
bushes."  She  pouted  her  lips  invitingly,  but  he  de 
clared  she  was  a  minor  and  as  such  her  bargain  would 
not  hold, 

It  was  evidently  her  mood  to  re-enter  the  land  ol 
whims  and  travel  again,  as  they  had  on  the  way  from 
town,  but  he  knew  that  for  him  such  a  thing  could 
not  be,  for  his  eyes  had  cleared  since  then.  He  knew 
that  he  could  never  again  wander  through  the  happy 
valley,  for  he  vowed  this  maid  should  be  no  plaything 
for  him  or  for  any  other  man,  and  as  there  could  be 
no  honorable  end  to  this  affair,  it  must  terminate  at 
once.  Just  how  this  was  to  be  consummated  he  had 
not  determined  as  yet,  nor  did  he  like  to  set  about  its 

118 


THE   RNIFB 

•olution,  it  hurt  him  so  to  think  of  losing  her.  How 
ever,  she  was  very  young,  only  a  child,  and  in  time 
would  come  to  count  him  but  a  memory,  no  doubt; 
while  as  for  him — well,  it  would  be  hard  to  forget  her, 
but  he  could  and  would.  He  reasoned  glibly  that  this 
was  the  only  honest  course,  and  his  reasoning  con 
vinced  him;  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  pressure  of  her 
warm  lips  came  upon  him  and  the  remembrance  upset 
every  premise  and  process  of  his  logic.  Nevertheless, 
he  was  honest  in  his  stubborn  determination  to  con 
clude  the  affair,  and  finally  decided  to  let  time  show 
him  the  way. 

She  seemed  to  be  very  happy,  her  mood  being  in 
marked  contrast  to  that  of  Poleon  and  the  trader, 
both  of  whom  had  fallen  oilent  and  gloomy,  and  in 
whom  the  hours  wrought  no  change.  The  latter  had 
tacitly  acknowledged  his  treachery  towards  Stark  on 
the  previous  night,  but  beyond  that  he  would  not  go, 
offering  no  motive,  excuse,  or  explanation,  choosing  to 
stand  in  the  eyes  of  his  friend  as  an  intended  murderer, 
notwithstanding  which  Poleon  let  the  matter  drop — for 
was  not  his  friend  a  good  man  ?  Had  he  not  been  tried 
in  a  hundred  ways  ?  The  young  Frenchman  knew  there 
must  have  been  strong  reason  for  Gale's  outburst,  and 
vras  content  to  trust  him  without  puzzling  his  mind  to 
discover  the  cause  of  it. 

Now,  a  secret  must  either  grow  or  die — there  is  no 
fallow  age  for  it — and  this  one  had  lived  with  Gale 
for  fifteen  years,  until  it  had  made  an  old  man  of  him. 
It  weighed  him  down  until  the  desire  to  be  rid  of  it 
almost  became  overpowering  at  times;  but  his  caution 
was  ingrained  and  powerful,  and  so  it  was  that  he 
resisted  the  temptation  to  confide  in  his  partner,  al 
though  the  effort  left  him  tir*d  and  inert.  The  only 


THE    BARRIER 

one  to  whom  he  could  talk  was  Alluna-— she  under- 
"stoodp  and  though  she  might  not  help,  the  sound  oi  his 
own  voice  at  least  always  afforded  him  some  relief. 

As  to  Poleon,  no  one  had  ever  seen  him  thus.  Never 
in  all  his  life  of  dream  and  song  and  romance  had  he 
known  a  heavy  heart  until  now,  for  if  at  times  he  had 
wept  like  a  girl,  it  was  at  the  hurts  of  others.  He  had 
loved  a  bit  and  gambled  much,  with  equal  misfortune, 
and  the  next  day  he  had  forgotten.  He  had  lived  the 
free,  clean  life  of  a  man  who  wins  joyously  or  goes 
down  with  defiance  in  his  throat,  but  this  venomous 
thing  that  Runnion  had  planted  in  him  had  seeped 
and  circulated  through  his  being  until  every  fibre  was 
penetrated  with  a  bitter  poison.  Most  of  his  troubles 
could  be  grappled  with  bare  hands,  but  here  was  one 
against  which  force  would  not  avail,  hence  he  was  un 
happy. 

The  party  reached  Flambeau  on  the  following  day, 
sufficiently  ahead  of  Stark  and  his  men  for  Lee  to 
make  known  his  find  to  his  friends,  and  by  sunset  the 
place  was  depopulated,  while  a  line  of  men  could  be 
seen  creeping  slowly  up  the  valleys. 

<jale  found  Alluna  in  charge  of  the  store,  but  no 
opportunity  of  talking  alone  with  her  occurred  until 
late  in  the  evening,  after  Necia  had  put  the  two  little 
ones  to  bed  and  had  followed  them  wearily.  Then  he 
told  his  squaw.  She  took  the  news  better  than  he 
expected,  and  showed  no  emotion  such  as  other  women 
would  have  displayed,  even  when  he  told  her  of  the 
gunshot.  Instead, she  inquired: 

"Why  did  you  try  it  there  before  all  those  others?" 

"Well,  when  I  heard  him  talking,  the  wish  to  kill 
him  was  more  than  I  could  stand,  and  it  came  on  roe 
all  at  once0  so  that  I  was  mad,  I  suppose0  I  never 

I2O 


THE    KNIFE 

did   the   like   before."     He   half   shuddered    at    tha 

memory. 

"I  am  sorry, "  she  said, 

"Yes!     So  am  I." 

"Sorry  that  you  failed,  for  you  will  never  have  as 
good  a  chance  again.  What  was  the  matter  with  your 
aim?  I  have  seen  you  hit  a  knot-hole,  shooting  from 
the  hip." 

44 The  man  is  charmed,"  declared  Gale.  "He's  bul 
let-proof." 

"There  are  people,"  she  agreed,  "that  a  gunshot 
will  not  injure.  There  was  a  man  like  that  among  my 
people — my  father's  enemy — but  he  was  not  proof 
against  steel." 

"Your  old  man  knifed  him,  eh?" 

She  nodded. 

"Ugh!"  the  man  shivered.  "I  couldn't  do  that. 
A  gun  is  a  straight  man's  friend,  but  a  knife  is  the 
weapon  of  traitors.  I  couldn't  drive  it  home." 

"Does  this  man  suspect?" 

"No." 

"Then  it  is  child's  play.     We  will  lay  a  trap." 

"No,  by  God!"  Gale  interrupted  her  hotly.  "I 
tried  that  kind  of  work,  and  it  won't  do.  I'm  no 
murderer." 

''Those  are  only  words,"  said  the  woman,  quietly. 
"To  kill  your  enemy  is  the  law." 

The  only  light  in  the  room  came  from  the  stove,  a 
great  iron  cylinder  made  from  a  coal -oil  tank  that  lay 
on  a  rectangular  bed  of  sand  held  inside  of  four  timbers, 
with  a  door  in  one  end  to  take  whole  lengths  of  cord- 
wood,  and  which,  being  open,  lit  the  space  in  front, 
throwing  the  sides  and  corners  of  the  place  into  blackel 
mystery. 

tat 


THE    BARRIER 

When  he  made  no  answer  the  squaw  slipped  out 
feito  the  shadows,  leaving  him  staring  into  the  flames, 
to  return  a  moment  later  bearing  something  in  her 
hands,  which  she  placed  in  his.  It  was  a  knife  in  a 
scabbard,  old  and  worn. 

"There  is  no  magic  that  can  turn  bright  steel," 
she  said,  then  squatted  again  in  the  dimness  outside  of 
the  firelight.  Gale  slid  the  case  from  the  long  blade 
and  held  it  in  his  palm,  letting  the  firelight  flicker  on 
it.  He  balanced  it  and  tested  the  feel  of  its  handle 
against  his  palm,  then  tried  the  edge  of  it  with  his 
thumb-nail,  and  found  it  honed  like  a  razor. 

"A  child  could  kill  with  it,"  said  Alluna.  "Both 
edges  of  the  blade  are  so  thin  that  a  finger's  weight 
will  bury  it.  One  should  hold  the  wrist  firmly  till  it 
pierces  through  the  coat,  that  is  all — after  that  the 
flesh  takes  it  easily,  like  butter." 

The  glancing,  glinting  light  flashing  from  the  deadly 
thing  seemed  to  fascinate  the  man,  for  he  held  it  a 
long  while  silently.  Then  he  spoke. 

"For  fifteen  years  I've  been  a  haunted  man,  with  a 
soul  like  a  dark  and  dismal  garret  peopled  with  bats 
and  varmints  that  flap  and  flutter  all  the  time.  I  used 
to  figger  that  if  I  killed  this  man  I'd  kill  that  memory, 
too,  and  those  flitting,  noiseless  things  would  leave 
me,  but  the  thought  of  doing  it  made  me  afraid  every 
time,  so  I  ran  away,  which  never  did  no  good — you 
can't  outfoot  a  memory  —  and  I  knew  all  the  wnile 
that  we'd  meet  sooner  or  later.  Now  that  the  day  is 
here  at  last,  I'm  not  ready  for  it.  I'd  like  to  run  away 
again  if  there  was  any  place  to  run  to,  but  I've  followed 
frontiers  till  I've  seen  them  disappear  one  by  one;  I've 
retreated  till  my  back  is  against  the  Circle,  and  there 
isn't  any  further  land  to  go  to.  All  the  time  I've 

122 


THE    KNIFE 

prayed  and  planned  for  this  meeting,  and  yet — Tm 
undecided." 

"Kill  him!'*  said  Alluna. 

"God  knows  I've  always  hated  trouble,  whereas  itrs 
what  he  lives  on.  I've  always  wanted  to  die  in  bed, 
while  he's  been  a  killer  all  his  life  and  the  smoke  hangs 
forever  in  his  eyes.  Only  for  an  accident  we  might 
have  lived  here  all  our  days  and  never  had  a  'run-in,' 
which  makes  me  wonder  if  I  hadn't  better  let  things 
go  on  as  they  are." 

"Kill  himi  It  is  the  law/1  repeated  Alluna,  stub 
bornly,  but  he  put  her  aside  with  a  slow  shake  of  the 
head  and  arose  as  if  very  tired. 

"No!  I  don't  think  I  can  do  it — not  in  cold  blood, 
anyhow.  Good -night!  I'm  going  to  sleep  on  it," 
He  crossed  to  the  door  of  his  room,  but  as  he  went 
»he  noted  that  he  slipped  the  knife  and  scabbard  in 
side  the  bosom  of  his  shirt 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    AWAKENING 

EARLY  the  next  morning  Corporal  Thomas  came 
into  the  store  and  found  Necia  tending  it  while 
Gale  was  out.  Ever  since  the  day  she  had  ques 
tioned  him  about  Burrell,  this  old  man  had  taken 
every  occasion  to  talk  with  the  girl,  and  when  he 
asked  her  this  morning  about  the  reports  concerning 
Lee's  strike,  she  told  him  of  her  trip,  and  all  that 
had  occurred. 

\  "You  see,  I'm  a  mine-owner  now,"  she  concluded. 
*If  it  hadn't  been  a  secret  I  would  have  told  you 
before  I  went  so  you  could  have  been  one  of  the 
first." 

"I'm  goin',  anyhow,"  he  said,  "if  the  Lieutenant 
will  let  me  and  if  it's  not  too  late." 

Then  she  told  him  of  the  trail  by  Black  Bear  Creek 
which  would  save  him  several  hours. 

"So  that's  how  you  and  he  made  it?"  he  observed, 
gazing  at  her  shrewdly.  "  I  supposed  you  went  with 
your  father?" 

"Oh,  no!  We  beat  him  in,"  she  said,  and  fell  to 
musing  at  the  memory  of  those  hours  passed  alone  with 
Meade,  while  her  eyes  shone  and  her  cheeks  glowed. 
The  Corporal  saw  the  look,  and  it  bore  out  a  theory 
he  had  formed  during  the  past  month,  so,  as  he  lin 
gered,  he  set  about  a  task  that  had  lain  in  his  mind 

124 


THE    AWAKENING 

for  some  time.  As  a  rule  he  was  not  a  careful  man  in 
his  speech,  and  the  delicacy  of  this  manoeuvre  taxed 
his  ingenuity  to  the  utmost,  for  he  loved  the  girl  and 
/eared  to  say  too  much. 

"The  Lieutenant  is  a  smart  young  fellow,"  he  be 
gan;  "and  it  was  slick  work  jumpin'  all  those  claims. 
It's  just  like  him  to  befriend  a  girl  like  you — I've  seen 
him  do  it  before — " 

"What!"  exclaimed  Necia,  " befriend  other  girls?" 

"Or  things  just  like  it.  He's  always  doing  favors 
that  get  him  into  trouble." 

"This  couldn't  cause  him  trouble,  could  it,  outside 
of  Stark's  and  Runnion's  grudge?" 

"No,  I  reckon  not,"  assented  the  Corporal,  groping 
blindly  for  some  way  of  expressing  what  he  wished 
to  say.  "Except,  of  course,  it  might  cause  a  lot  of 
talk  at  headquarters  when  it's  known  what  he's  done 
for  you  and  how  he  done  it.  I  heard  something  abotxV 
it  down  the  street  this  morning,  so  I'm  afraid  it  will 
get  to  St.  Michael's,  and  then  to  his  folks."  He  real 
ized  that  he  was  not  getting  on  well,  for  the  task  was 
harder  than  he  had  imagined. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Necia.  "He  hasn't  done 
anything  that  any  man  wouldn't  do  under  the  same 
circumstances." 

"No  man's  got  a  right  to  make  folks  talk  about  a 
nice  girl,"  said  the  Corporal;  "and  tne  feller  that  told 
me  about  it  said  he  reckoned  you  two  was  in  love." 
He  hurried  along  now  without  offering  her  a  chance 
to  speak.  "Of  course,  that  had  to  be  caught  up  quick; 
you're  too  fine  a  girl  for  that." 

"Too  fine?"  Necia  laughed. 

"I  mean  you're  too  fine  and  good  to  let  him  put 
you  in  wrong,  just  as  he's  too  fine  a  fellow  and  got 

"5 


THE    BARRIER 

too  much  ahead  of  him  to  make  what  his  people  would 
call  a  messy-alliance." 

"Would  his  people  object  to — to  such  a  thing?" 
questioned  the  girl.  They  were  alone  in  the  store,  and 
so  they  could  talk  freely.  "I'm  just  supposing,  you 
know." 

"Oh,  Lord !  Would  they  object  ?"  Corporal  Thomas 
laughed  in  a  highly  artificial  manner  that  made  Necia 
bridle  and  draw  herself  up  indignantly. 

"Why  should  they,  I'd  like  to  know?  I'm  just  as 
pretty  as  other  girls,  and  I'm  just  as  good.  I  know 
just  as  much  as  they  do,  too,  except — about  certain 
things." 

"You  sure  are  all  of  that  and  more, too,"  the  Cor 
poral  declared,  heartily,  "but  if  you  knowed  more 
about  things  outside  you'd  understand  why  it  ain't 
possible.  I  can't  tell  you  without  hurtin'  your  feel- 
in's,  and  I  like  you  too  much  for  that,  Miss  Necia. 
Seems  as  if  I'm  almost  a  daddy  to  you,  and  I've  only 
knowed  you  for  a  few  weeks — " 

"Go  ahead  and  tell  me;  I  won't  be  offended,"  in 
sisted  the  girl.  "You  must.  I  don't  know  much  about 
such  things,  for  I've  lived  all  my  life  with  men  like 
father  and  Poleon,  and  the  priests  at  the  Mission,  who 
treat  me  just  like  one  of  themselves.  But  somebod> 
will  want  to  marry  me  some  day,  I  suppose,  so  I  ought 
to  know  what  is  wrong  with  me."  She  flushed  up 
darkly  under  her  brown  cheeks. 

The  feeling  came  over  Corporal  Thomas  that  he  had 
hurt  a  helpless  animal  of  some  gentle  kind;  that  he 
was  bungling  his  work,  and  that  he  was  not  of  the 
calibre  to  go  into  the  social  amenities.  He  began  to 
perspire  uncomfortably,  but  went  on,  doggedly: 

"I'm  goin'  to  tell  you  a  story,  not  because  it  applies 
126 


THE    AWAKENING 

to  Lieutenant  Burrell,  or  because  he's  in  love  with  you, 
which  of  course  he  ain't  any  more  than  you  be  with 
him—" 

"Of  course,"  said  the  girl. 

" — but  just  to  show  you  what  I  mean.  It  was  a 
good  long  spell  ago,  when  I  was  at  Fort  Supply, 
which  was  the  frontier  in  them  days  like  this  is  now. 
We  freighted  in  from  Dodge  City  with  bull  teams,  and 
it  was  sure  the  fringe  of  the  frontier;  no  women — no 
society — nothin'  much  except  a  fort,  a  lot  of  Injuns, 
and  a  few  officials  with  their  wives  and  families.  Now 
them  kind  of  places  is  all  right  for  married  men,  but 
they're  tough  sleddin'  for  single  ones,  and  after  a  while 
a  feller  gets  awful  careless  about  himself;  he  seems  to 
go  backward  and  run  down  mighty  quick  when  he  gets 
away  from  civilization  and  his  people  and  restaurants 
and  such  tilings;  he  gets  plumb  reckless  and  forgetful 
of  what's  what.  Well,  there  was  a  captain  with  us,  a 
young  feller  that  looked  like  the  Lieutenant  here,  and 
a  good  deal  the  same  sort — high-tempered  and  chiv- 
a/rious  and  all  that  sort  of  thing;  a  West-Pointer,  too, 
good  family  and  all  that,  and,  what's  more,  a  captain 
at  twenty-five.  Now,  our  head  freighter  was  married 
to  a  squaw,  or  leastways  he  had  been,  but  in  them 
days  nobody  thought  much  of  it  any  more  than  they 
do  up  here  now,  and  particularly  because  he'd  had  a 
government  contract  for  a  long  while,  ran  a  big  gang 
of  men  and  critters,  and  had  made  a  lot  of  money. 
Likewise  he  had  a  girl,  who  lived  at  the  fort,  and  was 
mighty  nice  to  look  at,  and  restful  to  the  eye  after  a 
year  or  so  of  cactus-trees  and  mesquite  and  buffalo- 
grass.  She  was  twice  as  nice  and  twice  as  pretty  as 
the  women  at  the  post,  and  as  for  money — well,  her 
dad  could  have  bought  and  sold  all  the  officers  in  a 

127 


THE    BARRIER 

lump;  but  they  and  their  wives  looked  down  on  her0 
and  she  didn't  mix  with  them  none  whatever,  To 
make  it  short,  the  captain  married  her0  Seemed  like 
'he  got  disregardful  of  everything,  and  the  hunger  to 
have  a  woman  just  overpowered  him.  She'd  been 
courted  by  every  single  man  for  four  hundred  miles 
around.  She  was  pretty  and  full  of  fire,  and  they 
was  both  of  an  age  to  love  hard,  so  Jefferson  swore  he'd 
make  the  other  women  take  her;  but  soldierin'  is  a  heap 
different  from  any  other  profession,  and  the  army  has 
got  its  own  traditions.  The  plan  wouldn't  work.  By- 
and-by  the  captain  got  tired  of  trying,  and  gave  up 
the  attempt — just  devoted  himself  to  her — and  then 
we  was  transferred,  all  but  him.  We  shifted  to  a  bet 
ter  post,  but  Captain  Jefferson  was  changed  to  another 
company  and  had  to  stay  at  Supply,  Gee!  it  was  a 
rotten  hole!  Influence  had  been  used,  and  there  he 
stuck,  while  the  new  officers  cut  him  out  completely, 
just  like  the  others  had  done,  so  I  was  told,  and  it 
drifted  on  that  way  for  a  long  time,  him  forever  makin* 
an  uphill  fight  to  get  his  wife  reco'nized  and  always 
quittin'  loser.  His  folks  back  East  was  scandalized 
and  froze  him  cold,  callin'  him  a  squaw-man;  and  the 
story  went  all  through  the  army,  till  his  brother  officers 
had  to  treat  him  cold  in  order  to  keep  enough  warmth 
at  home  to  live  by,  one  thing  leading  to  another  till  he 
finally  resented  it  openly „  After  that  he  didn't  last 
long.  They  made  it  so  unpleasant  that  he  quit  the 
service — crowded  him  out,  that's  all.  He  was  a  born 
soldier,  too,  and  didn't  know  nothing  else  nor  care  for 
nothing  else ;  as  fine  a  man  as  I  ever  served  under,  but 
it  soured  him  so  that  a  rattlesnake  couldn't  have  lived 
with  him.  He  tried  to  go  into  some  kind  of  business 
after  he  quit  the  army,  but  he  wasn't  cut  out  for  it,  and 

128 


THE    AWAKENING 

never  made  good  as  long  as  I  knew  of  him.  The  last 
time  I  seen  him  was  down  on  the  border,  and  he  had 
sure  grown  cultus.  He  had  quit  the  squaw,  who  was 
livin*  with  a  greaser  in  Tucson — " 

"And  do  you  think  I'm  like  that  woman?"  said 
Necia,  in  a  queer,  strained  voice.  She  had  listened 
intently  to  the  Corporal's  story,  but  he  had  purposely 
avoided  her  eyes  and  could  not  tell  how  she  was 
taking  it. 

"No!  You're  different,  but  the  army  is  just  the 
same.  I  told  you  this  to  show  you  how  it  is  out  in 
the  States.  It  don't  apply  to  you,  of  course — " 

"Of  course!"  agreed  Necia  again.  "But  what 
would  happen  to  Lieutenant  Burrell  if — if — well,  if 
he  should  do  somethin^  1ike  that?  There  are  many 
half-breed  girte,  I  dare  say,  like  this  other  girl,  or — 
like  me." 

She  did  not  flush  now  as  before ;  instead,  her  cheeks 
were  pale. 

"It  would  go  a  heap  worse  with  him  than  it  did 
with  Captain  Jefferson,"  said  the  Corporal,  "for  he's 
got  more  ahead  of  him  and  he  comes  from  better 
stock.  Why,  his  family  is  way  up!  They're  all  sol 
diers,  and  they're  strong  at  headquarters;  they're 
mighty  proud,  too,  and  they  wouldn't  stand  for  his 
doing  such  a  thing,  even  if  he  wanted  to.  But  he 
wouldn't  try;  he's  got  too  much  sense,  and  loves  the 
army  too  well  for  that.  No,  sir!  He'll  go  a  long  ways, 
that  boy  will,  if  he's  let  alone." 

"I  never  thought  of  myself  as  an  Indian,"  said 
Necia,  dully.  "In  this  country  it's  a  person's  heart 
that  counts." 

"That's  how  it  ought  to  be,"  said  the  Corporal, 
heartily;  "and  I'm  mighty  sorry  if  I've  hurt  you,  lit- 

129 


THE    BARRIER 

tie  girl.  I'tn  a  rough  old  rooster,  and  I  never  thought 
but  what  you  understood  all  this.  Up  here  folks  look 
at  it  right,  but  outside  it's  mighty  different;  even  yet 
you  don't  half  understand." 

"I'm  glad  I'm  what  I  am!"  cried  the  girl.     "There's 

nothing  in  my  blood  to  be  ashamed  of,  and  I'm  white 

in  here!"     She  struck  her  bosom  fiercely.     "If  a  man 

Cloves  me  he'll  take  me  no  matter  what  it  means  to  him.'* 

"Right  for  you,"  assented  the  other;  "and  if  I  was 
younger  myself,  I'd  sure  have  a  lot  of  nice  things  to 
say  to  you.  If  I'd  'a'  had  somebody  like  you  I'd  'a* 
let  liquor  alone,  maybe,  and  amounted  to  something, 
but  all  I'm  good  for  now  is  to  give  advice  and  draw 
my  pay."  He  slid  down  from  the  counter  where  he 
had  been  sitting.  "I'm  goin*  to  hunt  up  the  Lieu 
tenant  and  get  him  to  let  me  off.  Mebbe  I  can  stake 
a  claim  and  sell  it." 

The  moment  he  was  gone  the  girl's  composure  van- 
shed  and  she  gave  vent  to  her  feelings. 

"It's  a  lie!  It's  a  lie!"  she  cried,  aloud,  and  with 
her  fists  she  beat  the  boards  in  front  of  her.  "He 
loves  me!  I  know  he  does!"  Then  she  began  to 
tremble,  and  sobbed:  "I'm  just  like  other  girls." 

She  was  still  wrestling  with  herself  when  Gale  re 
turned,  and  he  started  at  the  look  in  her  face  as  she 
approached  him. 

"Why  did  you  marry  my  mother?"  she  asked. 
"Why?  Why  did  you  do  it?" 

He  saw  that  she  was  in  a  rage,  and  answered,  bluntly, 
"I  didn't." 

She  shrank  at  this.  ' '  Then  why  didn't  you  ?  Shame! 
Shame!  That  makes  me  worse  than  I  thought  I  was. 
Oh,  why  did  you  ever  turn  squaw-man  ?  Why  did  you 
make  me  a  breed  ?" 

130 


THE    AWAKENING 

"Look  heref     What  ails  you?"  said  the  trader. 

"What  ails  me?"  she  mocked.  "Why,  I'm  neither 
white  nor  red,  I'm  not  even  a  decent  Indian.  I'm  a — 
a — "  She  shuddered.  "You  made  me  what  I  am. 
You  didn't  do  me  the  justice  even  to  marry  my  mother." 

"Somebody's  been  saying  things  about  you,"  said 
Gale,  quietly,  taking  her  by  the  shoulders.  "Who  is 
it?  Tell  me  who  it  is." 

"No,  no!  It's  not  that!  Nobody  has  said  anything 
to  my  face;  they're  afraid  of  you,  I  suppose,  but  God 
knows  what  they  think  and  say  to  my  back." 

"I'll — "  began  the  trader,  but  she  interrupted  him. 

"I've  just  begun  to  realize  what  I  am.  I'm  not  re 
spectable.  I'm  not  like  other  women,  and  never  can 
be.  I'm  a  squaw — a  squaw  I" 

"You're  not!"  he  cried. 

"It's  a  nice  word,  isn't  it?" 

"What's  wrong  with  it?" 

"No  honest  man  can  marry  me.  I'm  a  vagabondl 
The  best  I  can  get  is  my  bed  and  board,  like  my 
mother." 

"By  God!  Who  offered  you  that?"  Gale's  face 
was  whiter  than  hers  now,  but  she  disregarded  him 
and  abandoned  herself  to  the  tempest  of  emotion  that 
swept  her  along. 

"  He  can  play  with  me,  but  nothing  more,  and  when 
ke  is  gone  another  one  can  have  me,  and  then  another 
and  another  and  another — as  long  as  I  can  cook  and 
wash  and  work.  In  time  my  man  will  beat  me,  just 
like  any  other  squaw,  I  suppose,  but  I  can't  marry; 
I  can't  be  a  wife  to  a  decent  man." 

She  was  in  the  clutch  of  an  hysteria  that  made  her 
writhe  beneath  Gale's  hand,  choking  and  sobbing,  until 
he  loosed  her;  then  she  leaned  exhausted  against  a 


THE    BARRIER 

post  and  wiped  her  eyes,  for  the  tears  were  coming 
now. 

"That's  all  damned  rot,"  he  said.  "There's  fifty 
good  men  in  this  camp  would  marry  you  to-morrow." 

"Bah!  I  mean  real  men,  not  miners.  I  want  to  be 
a  lady.  I  don't  want  to  pull  a  hand-sled  and  wear 
moccasins  all  my  life,  and  raise  children  for  men  with 
whiskers.  I  want  to  be  loved — I  want  to  be  loved! 
I  want  to  marry  a  gentleman." 

"Burrell!"  said  Gale. 

"No!"  she  flared  up.  "Not  him  nor  anybody  in 
particular,  but  somebody  like  him,  some  man  with 
clean  finger-nails." 

He  found  nothing  humorous  or  grotesque  in  her 
measure  of  a  gentleman,  for  he  realized  that  she  was 
strung  to  a  pitch  of  unreason  and  unnatural  excite 
ment,  and  that  she  was  in  terrible  earnest. 

"Daughter,"  he  said,  "I'm  mighty  sorry  this  knowl 
edge  has  come  to  you,  and  I  see  it's  my  fault,  but  things 
are  different  now  to  what  they  were  when  I  met 
Alluna.  It  wasn't  the  style  to  marry  squaws  where 
we  came  from,  and  neither  of  us  ever  thought  about  it 
much.  We  were  happy  with  each  other,  and  we've 
been  man  and  wife  to  each  other  just  as  truly  as  if  a 
priest  had  mumbled  over  us." 

"But  why  didn't  you  marry  her  when  I  came? 
Surely  you  must  have  known  what  it  would  mean  to 
me.  It  was  bad  enough  without  that." 

The  old  man  hesitated.  "I'll  own  I  was  wrong," 
he  said,  finally,  staring  out  into  the  sunshine  with  an 
odd  expression.  "It  was  thoughtless  and  wrong,  dead 
wrong;  but  I've  loved  you  better  than  any  daughter 
was  ever  loved  in  this  wide  world,  and  I've  worked  and 
starved  and  froze  and  saved,  and  so  has  Alluna,  so 

132 


THE    AWAKENING 

that  you  might  have  something  to  live  on  when  I'm 
gone,  and  be  different  to  us.  It  won't  be  long  now, 
I  guess.  I've  given  you  the  best  schooling  of  any 
girl  on  the  river,  and  I'd  have  sent  you  out  to  a 
convent  in  the  States,  but  I  couldn't  let  you  go  so  far 
away  —  God !  I  loved  you  too  much  for  that  —  I 
couldn't  do  it,  girl.  I've  tried,  but  you're  all  I've 
got,  and  I'm  a  selfish  man,  I  reckon." 

"No,  no!  You're  not,"  his  daughter  cried,  impul 
sively.  "You're  everything  that's  good  and  dear,  but 
you've  lived  a  different  life  from  other  men  and  you 
see  things  differently.  It  was  mean  of  me  to  talk  as 
I  did."  She  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  hugged 
him.  "But  I'm  very  unhappy,  dad." 

"Don't  you  aim  to  tell  what  started  this?"  he  said, 
gently,  caressing  her  with  his  great,  hard  hand  as 
softly  as  a  mother.  But  she  shook  her  head,  and  he 
continued,  "I'll  take  the  first  boat  down  to  the  Mis 
sion  and  marry  your  ma,  if  you  want  me  to." 

"That  wouldn't  do  any  good,"  said  she.  "We'd 
better  leave  things  as  they  are."  Then  she  drew  away 
and  smiled  at  him  bravely  from  the  door.  "  I'm  a  very 
bad  to  act  this  way.  S'cuses?" 

He  nodded  and  she  went  out,  but  he  gazed  after 
her  for  a  long  minute,  then  sighed. 

"Poor  little  girl!" 

Necia  was  in  a  restless  mood,  and,  remembering  that 
Alluna  and  the  children  had  gone  berrying  on  the 
slopes  behind  the  Indian  village,  she  turned  her  way 
thither.  All  at  once  a  fear  of  seeing  Meade  Bur- 
rell  came  upon  her.  She  wanted  to  think  this  out, 
to  find  where  she  stood,  before  he  had  word  with  her. 
She  had  been  led  to  observe  herself  from  a  strange 
angle,  and  must  verify  her  vision,  as  it  were.  As 

133 


THE    BARRIER 

yet  she  could  not  fully  understand.  What  if  he  bad 
changed,  now  that  he  was  alone,  and  had  had  time 
to  think?  It  would  kill  her  if  she  saw  any  difference 
in  him,  and  she  knew  she  would  be  able  to  read  it  ia 
his  eyes. 

As  she  went  through  the  main  street  of  the  camp  she 
saw  Stark  occupied  near  the  water-front,  where  he  had 
bought  a  building  lot.  He  spoke  to  her  as  she  was 
about  to  pass. 

"Good-morning,  Miss.  Are  you  rested  from  your 
trip  ?" 

She  answered  that  she  was,  and  would  have  con 
tinued  on  her  way,  but  he  stopped  her. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  think  that  mining  matter  was 
my  doing/'  he  said.  "I've  got  nothing  against  you. 
Your  old  man  hasn't  wasted  any  affection  on  me,  and 
I  can  get  along  without  him,  all  right,  but  I  don't 
make  trouble  for  girls  if  I  can  help  it." 

The  girl  believed  that  he  meant  what  he  said;  his 
words  rang  true,  and  he  spoke  seriously.  Moreover, 
Stark  was  known  already  in  the  camp  as  a  man  who 
did  not  go  out  of  his  way  to  make  friends  or  to  render 
an  accounting  of  his  deeds,  so  it  was  natural  that  when 
he  made  her  a  show  of  kindness  Necia  should  treat  him 
with  less  coldness  than  might  have  been  expected.  The 
man  had  exercised  an  occult  influence  upon  her  from 
the  time  she  first  saw  him  at  Lee's  cabin,  but  it  was 
too  vague  for  definite  feeling,  and  she  had  been  too 
strongly  swayed  by  Poleon  and  her  father  in  their  at 
titude  towards  him  to  be  conscious  of  it.  Finding  him 
now,  however,  in  a  gentle  humor,  she  was  drawn  to 
him  unwittingly,  and  felt  an  overweening  desire  to  talk 
with  him,  even  at  the  hazard  of  offending  her  own 
people.  The  encounter  fitted  in  with  her  rebellious 

134 


THE    AWAKENING 

mood,  for  there  were  things  she  wished  to  know,  things 
she  must  find  out  from  some  one  who  knew  the  world 
and  would  not  be  afraid  to  answer  her  questions 
candidly. 

"I'm  going  to  build  a  big  dance -hall  and  saioon 
here,"  said  Stark,  showing  her  the  stakes  that  he  had 
driven.  '*  As  soon  as  the  rush  to  the  creek  is  over  I'll 
hire  a  gang  of  men  to  get  out  a  lot  of  house  logs.  I'll 
finish  it  in  a  week  and  be  open  for  the  stampede.*' 

"Do  you  think  this  will  be  a  big  town?"  she  asked. 

"Nobody  can  tell,  but  I'll  take  a  chance.  If  it 
proves  to  be  a  false  alarm  I'll  move  on — I've  done  it 
before." 

"You've  been  in  a  great  many  camps,  I  suppose." 

He  said  that  he  had,  that  for  twenty  years  he  had 
been  on  the  frontier,  and  knew  it  from  West  Texas  to 
tke  Circle. 

"And  are  they  all  alike?" 

"Very  much.  The  land  lies  different  but  the  people 
ar*  the  same." 

"I've  never  known  anything  except  this."  She 
swept  the  points  of  the  compass  with  her  arm.  "And 
there  is  so  much  beyond  that  I  want  to  know  about — 
oh,  I  feel  so  ignorant!  There  is  something  now  that 
perhaps  you  could  tell  me,  you  have  travelled  so  much." 

"Let's  have  it,"  said  he,  smiling  at  her  seriousness. 

She  hesitated,  at  a  loss  for  words,  finally  blvrting 
out  what  was  in  her  mind. 

"My  father  is  a  squaw-man,  Mr.  Stark,  and  I've 
been  raised  to  think  that  such  things  are  customary." 

"They  are,  in  all  new  countries,"  he  assured  her. 

"But  how  are  they  regarded  when  civilization  comes 
along?" 

"Well,  they  aren't  regarded,  as  a  ruJe.  Squaw-men 
135 


THE    BARRIER 

are  pretty  shiftless,  and  people  don't  pay  much  atten* 
tion  to  them.  I  guess  if  they  weren't  they  wouldn't  be 
squaw-men." 

"My  father  isn't  shiftless,"  she  challenged,  at  which 
he  remained  silent,  refusing  to  go  on  record.  "Isn't 
a  half-breed  just  as  good  as  a  white?" 

"Look  here,"  said  he.     ' '  What  are  you  driving  at  ?" 

"I'm  a  'blood,'"  she  declared,  recklessly,  "and  I 
want  to  know  what  people  think  of  me.  The  men 
around  here  have  never  made  me  feel  conscious  of  it, 
but—" 

"You're  afraid  of  these  new  people  who  are  coming, 
*h?  Well,  don't  worry  about  that,  Miss.  It  wouldn't 
make  any  difference  to  me  or  to  any  of  your  friends 
whether  you  were  red,  white,  black,  or  yellow." 

"But  it  would  make  a  difference  with  some  people?" 
insisted  the  girl. 

"Oh,  I  reckon  it  would  with  Eastern  people,  They 
look  at  things  kind  of  funny,  but  we're  not  in  the 
East." 

"That's  what  I  wanted  to  know.  Nice  people  back 
there  wouldn't  tolerate  a  girl  like  me  for  a  moment, 
would  they  ?  They  wouldn't  consider  me  good  enough 
to  associate  with  them?" 

He  shiugged  his  shoulders.  "I  guess  you'd  have  a 
hard  time  breaking  in  among  the  'bon-tonners.'  But 
what's  the  use  of  thinking  about  it.  This  is  your 
country  and  these  are  your  people." 

A  morbid  desire  was  upon  her  to  track  down  this 
intangible  racial  distinction,  but  she  saw  Runnion, 
whom  she  could  not  bear,  coming  towards  them,  so 
thanked  Stark  hurriedly  and  went  on  her  way. 

"Been  making  friends  with  that  squaw,  eh?"  re 
marked  Runnion,  casually. 

136 


THE    AWAKENING 

"Yes,"  replied  Stark.  "She's  a  nice  little  girl,  and 
I  like  her.  I  told  her  I  didn't  have  any  part  in  that 
miners'  meeting  affair." 

"Huh!  What's  the  matter  with  you?  It  was  all 
your  doing." 

"I  know  it  was,  but  I  didn't  aim  it  at  her.  I  want 
ed  that  ground  next  to  Lee's,  and  I  wanted  to  throw 
a  jolt  into  Old  Man  Gale.  I  couldn't  let  the  girl  stand 
in  my  way;  but  now  that  it's  over,  I'm  willing  to  be 
friends  with  her." 

"Me,  too,"  said  Runnion,  looking  after  Necia  as  her 
figure  diminished  up  the  street.  "By  Heaven!  She's 
as  graceful  as  a  fawn;  she's  white,  too.  Nobody  would 
ever  know  she  was  a  breed." 

"She's  a  good  girl,"  said  Stark,  musingly,  in  a  gentle 
tone  that  Runnion  had  never  heard  before. 

"Getting  kind  of  mushy,  ain't  you?  I  thought  you 
had  passed  that  stage,  old  man." 

"No,  I  don't  like  her  in  that  way." 

"Well,  I  do,  and  I'm  dead  sore  on  that  soldier." 

"She's  not  your  kind,"  said  Stark.  "A  bad  man 
can't  hold  a  good  woman;  he  can  win  one  easy  enough, 
but  he  can't  keep  her.  I  know!" 

"Nobody  but  a  fool  would  want  to  keep  one,"  Run 
nion  replied,  "specially  a  squaw." 

"She's  just  woke  up  to  the  fact  that  she  is  a  squaw 
and  isn't  as  good  as  white.  She's  worried." 

"I'll  lay  you  a  little  eight  to  five  that  Burrell  has 
.thrown  her  down,"  chuckled  Runnion. 

"I  never  thought  of  that.     You  may  be  right." 

"If  it's  true  I'll  shuffle  up  a  hand  for  that  soldier." 

"If  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  deal  it  to  him,"  said  the 
gambler,  dryly.  "He  may  not  cut  to  your  break." 

Meanwhile,  Necia  had  passed  on  out  of  the  town  and 
137 


THE    BARRIER 

the  Indian  village  at  the  mouth  of  the  creek, 
until  high  up  on  the  slopes  she  saw  Alluna  and  the 
little  ones.  She  climbed  up  to  them  and  seated  her 
self  where  she  could  look  far  out  over  the  westward 
valley,  with  the  great  stream  flowing  half  a  mile  be 
neath  her.  She  stayed  there  all  the  morning,  and  al' 
though  the  day  was  bright  and  the  bushes  bending 
with  their  burden  of  blue,  she  picked  no  berries,  but 
fought  resolutely  through  a  dozen  varying  moods  that 
mirrored  themselves  in  her  delicate  face.  It  was  her 
first  soul  struggle,  but  in  time  the  buoyancy  of  youth 
and  the  almighty  optimism  of  early  love  prevailed; 
she  comforted  herself  with  the  fond  illusion  that  this 
man  was  different  from  all  others,  that  his  regard  was 
equal  to  her  own,  and  that  his  love  would  rise  above 
such  accidental  things  as  blood  or  breed  or  birth.  And 
so  she  was  in  a  happier  frame  of  mind  when  the  little 
company  made  their  descent  at  mid-day. 

As  they  approached  the  town  they  heard  the  fa 
miliar  cry  of  "Steam-bo-o-o-at,"  and  by  the  time  they 
had  reached  home  the  little  camp  was  noisy  with  the 
plaint  of  wolf-dogs.  There  were  few  men  to  join  in 
the  welcome  to-day,  every  able-bodied  inhabitant 
having  disappeared  into  the  hills,  but  the  animals  came 
trooping  lazily  to  the  bank,  and  sat  down  on  their 
haunches  watching  the  approaching  steamer,  in  their 
soft  eyes  the  sadness  of  a  canine  race  of  slaves.  Be 
hind  them  limped  a  sick  man  or  two,  a  soldier  from  the 
barracks,  and  in  the  rear  a  fellow  who  had  drifted  in 
the  week  before  with  scurvy.  It  was  a  pitiful  review 
that  lined  up  to  greet  the  tide  of  tenderfeet  crowding 
towards  their  El  Dorado,  and  unusual  also,  for  as  yet 
the  sight  of  new  faces  was  strange  in  the  North. 

The  deserted  aspect  of  the  town  puzzled  the  cap- 

138 


THE    AWAKENING 

tain  of  the  steamer,  and  upon  Umding  he  maue  his 
way  at  once  to  John  Gale's  store,  wher^  he  learned 
from  the  trader  of  the  strike  and  of  the  stampede  that 
had  resulted.  Before  the  recital  was  finished  a  man 
approached  and  spoke  excitedly. 

"Captain,  my  ticket  reads  to  Bawson,  but  I'm  get 
ting  off  here.  Won't  you  have  my  outfit  put  ashore  ?" 
He  was  followed  by  a  group  of  fellow-passengers  who 
made  a  similar  request. 

"This  place  is  good  enough  for  ms,"  one  of  them  said. 

"Me,  too,"  another  volunteered.  "This  strike  is  new, 
and  we've  hit  her  just  in  time." 

Outside  a  dozen  men  had  crowded  "No  Creek"  Lee 
against  the  wall  of  the  store  and  were  clamoring  to 
hear  about  his  find.  Before  the  tardy  ones  had  cleared 
the  gang-plank  the  news  had  flashed  from  shore  to 
ship,  and  a  swarm  came  up  the  bank  and  into  the 
post,  firing  questions  and  answers  at  each  other  eagerly, 
elbowing  and  fighting  for  a  place  within  ear-shot  of  the 
trader  or  the  ragged  man  outside. 

The  frenzy  of  a  gold  stampede  is  like  the  rush  from 
a  burning  building,  and  equally  easy  to  arouse.  No 
statement  is  too  wild  to  lack  believers,  no  rumor  too 
exaggerated  to  find  takers.  Within  an  hour  the  crew 
of  the  steamer  was  busy  unloading  countless  tons  of 
merchandise  and  baggage  billed  to  Dawson,  and  tents 
began  to  show  their  snowy  whiteness  here  and  there. 
As  a  man  saw  his  outfit  appear  he  would  pounce  upon 
it,  a  bundle  at  a  time,  and  pile  it  by  itself,  which  re 
sulted  in  endless  disputes  and  much  confusion;  but 
a  spirit  of  youth  and  expectancy  permeated  all  and 
prevented  more  than  angry  words.  Every  hour  the 
heaps  of  baggage  grew  larger  and  the  tents  moiB 
numerous. 

139 


THE    BARRIER 

Stark  wasted  no  time.  With  money  in  his  hands 
he  secured  p  dozen  men  who  were  willing  to  work  for 
hire,  for  there  are  always  those  who  prefer  the  surety 
of  ten  coined  dollars  to  the  hope  of  a  hundred.  He 
swooped  down  with  these  helpers  on  his  pile  of  merchan 
dise  that  had  lain  beneath  tarpaulins  on  the  river-bank 
since  the  day  he  and  Runnion  landed,  and  by  mid-after^ 
noon  a  great  tent  had  been  stretched  over  a  frame 
work  of  peeled  poles  built  on  the  lot  where  he  and 
Necia  had  stood  earlier  in  the  day.  Before  dark  his 
saloon  was  running,  To  be  sure,  there  was  no  floor, 
and  his  polished  fixtures  looked  strangely  new  and 
incongruous,  but  the  town  at  large  had  assumed  a 
similar  au*  of  incompleteness  and  crude  immaturity, 
and  little  welder,  for  it  had  grown  threefold  in  half 
a  day.  Stark  swiftly  unpacked  his  gambling  imple 
ments,  keen  to  sce^t  every  advantage,  and  out  of  the 
handful  of  pale-faced  jackals  who  follow  at  the  heels  of 
a  healthy  herd,  he  hired  men  to  run  them  and  to  deal. 
By  night  Flambeau  was  a  mining-camp. 

Late  in  the  evening  the  boat  swung  out  into  the 
river,  and  disclosed  a  strange  scene  CA  transformation 
to  the  puzzled  captain  of  a  few  hours  ago.  The  river- 
bank  was  lined  with  canvas  shelters,  illumined  dully 
by  the  tent-lights  within  till  they  looked  like  a  nest 
of  glowworms  in  deep  grass.  A  long,  hoarse  blast  of 
good  wishes  rose  from  the  steamer,  then  she  sighed  her 
way  around  the  point  above  bearing  forth  the  message 
that  a  new  camp  had  been  born. 


CHAPTER  X 

HEADS     BURRELL    FINDS     A     PATH     IN    THE     MOONLIGHT 


°    CREEK"     LEE    had    C0me    int°    hi8    OWn    at 

last,  and  was  a  hero,  for  the  story  of  his  long 
ill-luck  was  common  gossip  now,  and  men  praised  him 
for  his  courage.  He  had  never  been  praised  for  any 
thing  before  and  was  uncertain  just  how  to  take  it. 

"Say,  are  these  people  kiddin'  me?"  he  inquired, 
confidentially,  of  Poleon. 

"Wy?     Wat  you  mean?" 

"Well,  there's  a  feller  makin'  a  speech  about  me 
down  by  the  landing." 

"Wat  he  say?" 

"It  ain't  iiothin'  to  fight  over.  He  says  I'm  another 
Dan'l  Boom,  leadin'  the  march  of  empire  westward." 

"Dat's  nice,  for  sure." 

"Certainly  sounds  good,  but  is  it  on  the  level?" 

"Wai,  I  guess  so,"  admitted  Poleon. 

The  prospector  swelled  with  indignation.  "Then, 
why  in  hell  didn't  you  fellers  tell  me  long  ago?" 

The  scanty  ounce  or  two  of  gold  from  his  claim  lay 
in  the  scales  at  the  post,  where  every  new-comer  might 
examine  it,  and,  realizing  that  he  was  a  never-ending 
source  of  information,  they  fawned  on  him  for  his 
tips,  bribing  him  with  newspapers,  worth  a  dollar 
each,  or  with  cigars,  which  he  wrapped  up  carefully 
and  placed  in  his  mackinaw  till  every  pocket  of  the 

141 


THE    BARRIER 

rusty  garment  bulged  so  that  he  could  not  sit 
losing  them.  They  dwelt  upon  his  lightest  word,  and 
stood  him  up  beside  the  bar  where  they  filled  him  with 
proofs  of  friendliness  until  he  shed  tears  from  his  one 
good  eye. 

He  had  formed  a  habit  of  parsimony  born  of  his? 
years  of  poverty,  and  was  so  widely  known  as  a  tight 
man  by  the  hundreds  who  had  lent  to  him  that  his 
creditors  never  at  any  time  hoped  for  a  reckoning. 
And  he  never  offered  one;  on  the  contrary,  he  had 
invariably  flown  into  a  rage  when  dunned,  and  exhib 
ited  such  resentment  as  to  discourage  the  practice. 
Now,  however,  the  surly  humor  of  the  man  began  to 
mellow,  and  in  gradual  stages  he  unloosened,  the  proc 
ess  being  attended  by  a  disproportionate  growth  of 
the  trader's  cash  receipts.  Cautiously,  at  first  he  let 
out  his  wit,  which  was  logy  from  long  disuse,  and  as 
heavy  on  its  feet  as  the  Jumping  Frog  of  Calaveras, 
but  when  they  laughed  at  its  labored  leaps  and  sallies 
his  confidence  grew.  With  the  regularity  of  a  clock 
he  planted  cigars  and  ordered  "a  little  more  hard 
stuff,"  while  his  roving  eye  rejoiced  in  lachrymose 
profusion,  its  over-burden  losing  itself  in  the  tangle  of 
his  careless  beard.  By-and-by  he  wandered  through 
the  town,  trailed  by  a  troop  of  tenderfeet,  till  the 
women  marked  him,  whereupon  he  fled  back  to  the 
post  and  hugged  the  bar,  for  he  was  a  bashful  man. 
,When  Stark's  new  place  opened  it  offered  him  another 
retreat  of  which  he  availed  himself  for  some  time.  But 
late  in  the  evening  he  reappeared  at  Old  Man  Gale's 
store,  walking  a  bit  unsteadily,  and  as  he  mounted 
the  flight  of  logs  to  the  door  he  stepped  once  too  often. 

"What's  become  of  that  fourth  step?"  he  demanded, 
sharply,  of  Polecn. 

14* 


MEADE    BURRELL    FINDS    A    PATH 

fc<Dere  she  is,"  said  the  Frenchman. 

"I'm  damned  if  it  is.    You  moved  it  since  I  was  here.** 

"I'll  have  'im  put  back,"  laughed  the  other. 

"Say!     It's  a  grand  thing  to  be  rich,  ain't  it?" 

"I  don'  know,  I  ain*  never  try  it." 

"Well,  it  is;  and  now  that  I've  arrived,  I'm  goin* 
to  change  my  ways  complete.  No  more  extravagance 
in  mine — I'll  never  lend  another  cent." 

"Wat's  den,?"  ejaculated  Doret,  in  amazement. 

"No  more  hard-luck  stories  and  'hurry-ups'  for 
mine.  I'm  the  stony-hearted  jailer,  I  am,  from  now, 
henceforth,  world  'thout  end,  amen!  No  busted  miners 
need  apply.  I've  been  a  good  thing,  but  to-night  I 
turn  on  the  time-lock." 

"Ba  gosh!  You're  fonny  feller,"  laughed  Poleon, 
who  had  lent  the  one-eyed  man  much  money  in  the 
past  and,  like  others,  regarded  him  not  merely  as  a 
bad  risk  but  as  a  total  loss.  "Mebbe  you  t'ink  you've 
been  a  spen't'rif  all  dese  year." 

"I've  certainly  blowed  a  lot  of  money  on  my  friends," 
Lee  acknowledged,  "and  they're  welcome  to  what 
they've  got  so  far,  but  I'm  goin'  to  chop  all  them  prodigal 
habits  and  put  on  the  tin  vest.  I'll  run  the  solderin'- 
rron  up  my  seams  so  they  can't  get  to  me  without  a 
can-opener.  I'm  air-tight  for  life,  I  am."  He  fumbled 
in  his  pockets  and  unwrapped  a  gift  cigar,  then  felt  for 
a  match.  Poleon  tossed  one  on  the  bar,  and  he  reached 
for  it  twice,  missing  it  each  time. 

"I  guess  dose  new  frien'  of  yours  is  mak'  you  purty 
full,  M'sieu*  Tin  Vest." 

"Nothin*  of  the  sort.  I've  got  a  bad  dose  of  in 
digestion." 

"Dat's  'orrible  disease!  Dere's  plaintee  riche  maa 
die  on  dat  seecknesae.  You  better  lie  down." 

M3 


THE    BARRIER 

Doret  took  the  hero  of  the  day  by  the  arm  and  led 
him  to  the  rear  of  the  store,  where  he  bedded  him  on 
a  pile  of  flour  sacks,  but  he  had  hardly  returned  to 
the  bar  when  Lee  came  veering  out  of  the  dimness, 
making  for  the  light  like  a  ship  tacking  towards  a 
I  beacon. 

"What  kind  of  flour  is  that?"  he  spluttered. 

"Dat's  just  plain  w'eat  flour." 

"Not  on  your  life,"  said  the  miner,  With  the  firm 
ness  of  a  great  conviction.  "It's  full  of  yeast  pow 
ders.  Why,  it's  r'arin'  and  risin'  like  a  buckin'  hoss. 
I'm  plumb  sea-sick."  He  laid  a  zigzag  course  for  the 
door. 

"Were  you  goin'?"  asked  Poleon. 

"I'm  goin'  to  get  somethin'  for  this  stomach  trouble. 
It's  fierce."  He  descended  into  the  darkness  boldly, 
and  stepped  off  with  confidence — this  time  too  soon. 
Poleon  heard  him  floundering  about,  his  indignant 
voice  raised  irascibly,  albeit  with  a  note  of  triumph. 

"Wha'd  I  tell  you?  You  put  it  back  while  I  was 
ashleep."  Then  whistling  blithely,  if  somewhat  out 
of  tune,  he  steered  for  the  new  saloon  to  get  something 
for  his  "stomach  trouble." 

At  Stark's  he  found  a  large  crowd  of  the  new  men 
who  welcomed  him  heartily,  plying  him  with  countless 
questions,  and  harking  to  his  maudlin  tales  of  this  new 
country  which  to  him  was  old.  He  had  followed  the 
muddy  river  from  Crater  Lake  to  the  Delta,  searching 
the  bars  and  creek-beds  in  a  tireless  quest,  till  he  knew 
each  stream  and  tributary,  for  he  had  been  one  of  the 
hardy  band  that  used  to  venture  forth  from  Juneau 
on  the  spring  snows,  disappearing  into  the  uncharted 
valley  of  the  Yukon,  to  return  when  the  river  clogged 
and  grew  sluggish,  and,  like  Gale,  he  had  lived  these 

144 


MEADE    BURRELL    FINDS    A    PATH 

many  years  ahead  of  the  law  where  each  man  was  his 
own  court  of  appeals  and  where  crime  was  unknown. 
He  had  helped  to  build  camps  like  Forty  Mile  and 
Circle;  he  knew  by  heart  the  by-laws  and  rules  that 
governed  every  town  and  mining  district  in  the  coun 
try;  he  knew  every  man  and  child  by  name,  but,  while 
many  of  his  friends  had  prospered,  unceasing  ill-luck 
had  dogged  him.  Yet  he  had  held  to  honesty  and 
hard  work,  measuring  a  man  by  his  ability  to  swing 
an  axe  or  a  shovel,  and,  despite  his  impecuniosity,  re 
garding  theft  as  the  one  crime  deserving  capital  pun 
ishment. 

"Oh,  there's  lots  of  countries  worse'n  this,"  he  de 
clared.  "We  may  not  be  very  han'some  to  the  naked 
eye,  and  we  may  not  wear  our  handk'chiefs  in  our 
shirt  cuffs,  but  there  ain't  no  widders  and  orphans 
doin'  our  washin',  and  a  man  can  walk  away  from  his 
house,  stay  a  month,  and  find  it  there  when  he  comes 
back." 

"Those  days  are  past,"  said  Stark,  who  had  joined 
in  the  discussion.  "There's  too  many  new  people 
coming  in  for  all  of  them  to  be  honest." 

"They'd  better  be,"  said  Lee,  aggressively.  "We 
ain't  got  no  room  for  stealers.  Why,  I  had  a  hand  in 
makin'  the  by-laws  of  this  camp  myself,  '!OP^  with 
John  Gale,  and  they  stip'lates  that  any  person  caught 
robbin'  a  cache  is  to  be  publicly  whipped  in  front  of 
the  tradin'-post,  then,  if  it's  winter  time,  he's  to  be 
turned  loose  on  the  ice  barefooted,  or,  if  it's  summer, 
he's  to  be  set  adrift  on  a  log  with  his  shirt  off." 

"Either  one  would  mean  certain  death,"  said  a 
stranger.  "Frost  in  winter,  mosquitoes  in  summer!" 

"That's  all  right,"  another  bystander  declared.  "A 
man's  life  depends  on  his  grub  up  here,  and  I'd  be  in 


THE    BARRIER 

favor  of  enforcing  that  punishment  to  the  letter  if  we 
caught  any  one  thieving." 

"All  the  same,  I  take  no  chances,"  said  Stark. 
"There's  too  many  strangers  here.  Just  to  show  you 
how  I  stand,  I've  put  Runnion  on  guard  over  my  pile 
.of  stuff,  and  I'll  be  glad  when  it's  under  cover.  It  isn't 
the  severity  of  punishment  that  keeps  a  man  from  going 
wrong,  it's  the  certainty  of  it." 

"Well,  he'd  sure  get  it,  and  get  it  proper  in  this 
camp,"  declared  Lee;  and  at  that  moment,  as  if  his 
words  had  been  a  challenge,  the  flaps  of  the  great  tent 
were  thrust  aside,  and  Runnion  half  led,  half  threw 
a  man  into  the  open  space  before  the  bar. 

"Let's  have  a  look  at  you,"  he  panted.  "Well,  if 
it  ain't  a  nigger!" 

"What's  up?"  cried  the  men,  crowding  about  the 
prisoner,  who  crouched,  terror-stricken,  in  the  trampled 
mud  and  moss,  while  those  playing  roulette  and  "bank" 
left  the  tables,  followed  by  the  dealers. 

"He's  a  thief,"  said  Runnion,  mopping  the  sweat 
from  his  brow.  "I  caught  him  after  your  grub  pile. 
Stark." 

"In  my  cache?" 

"Yes  He  dropped  a  crate  of  hams  when  I  came 
up  on  aim,  and  tried  to  run,  but  I  dropped  him,1'  He 
held  his  Colt  in  his  right  hand,  and  a  trickle  of  blood 
from  the  negro's  head  showed  how  he  had  been  felled. 

"Why  didn't  you  shoot?"  growled  Stark,  angrily, 
'at  which  the  negro  half  arose  and  broke  into  excited 
denials  of  his  guilt.  Runnion  kicked  him  savagely,  and 
cursed  him,  while  the  crowd  murmured  approval. 

"Le*  me  see  him,"  said  Lee,  elbowing  his  way 
through  the  others.  Fixing  his  one  eye  upon  the 
wretch,  he  spoke  impressively. 

146 


MEADE    BURRELL    FINDS    A    PATH 

"You're  the  first  downright  thief  I  ever  seen.  Was 
you  hungry?" 

"No,  he's  got  plenty,"  answered  one  of  the  tender- 
feet,  who  had  evidently  arrived  on  the  boat  with  the 
darky.  "He's  got  a  bigger  outfit  than  I  have." 

The  prisoner  dr^w  himself  up  against  the  bar,  facing 
his  enemies  sullenly. 

"Then  I  reckon  it's  a  divine  manifestation,"  said 
"No  Creek"  Lee,  tearfully.  "This  black  party  is  goin' 
to  furnish  an  example  as  will  elevate  the  moral  tone 
of  our  community  for  a  year." 

"Let  me  take  him  outside,"  cried  Stark,  reaching 
under  the  bar  for  a  weapon.  His  eyes  were  cruel, 
and  he  had  the  angry  pallor  of  a  dangerous  man.  "I'll 
save  you  a  lot  of  trouble." 

"Why  not  do  it  legal?"  expostulated  Lee,  "It's 
just  as  certain." 

"Yes!  Lee  is  right,"  echoed  the  crowd,  bent  on  a 
Roman  holiday. 

"What  y'all  aim  to  do?"  whined  the  thief. 

"We're  goin'  to  try  you,"  announced  the  one-eyed 
miner,  "and  if  you're  found  guilty,  as  you  certainly 
are  goin'  to  be,  you'll  be  flogged.  After  which  perdica- 
ment  you'll  have  a  nice  ride  down -stream  on  a  saw- 
log  without  your  laundry." 

"But  the  mosquitoes — " 

"Too  bad  you  didn't  think  of  them  before.  Let'f 
get  at  this,  boys,  and  have  it  over  with." 

In  far  countries,  where  men's  lives  depend  upon  the 
safety  of  their  food  supply,  a  side  of  bacon  may  mean 
more  than  a  bag  of  gold;  therefore,  protection  is  a 
strenuous  necessity.  And  though  any  one  of  those 
present  would  have  gladly  fed  the  negro  had  he  been 
needy,  each  of  them  likewise  knew  that  unless  an 

147 


THE    BARRIER 

example  were  made  of  him  no  tent  or  cabin  would 
be  safe.  The  North  being  a  gameless,  forbidding  coun 
try,  has  ever  been  cruel  to  thieves,  and  now  it  was 
heedless  of  the  black  man's  growing  terror  as  it  set 
about  to  try  him.  A  miners'  meeting  was  called  on 
the  spot,  and  a  messenger  sent  hurrying  to  the  post 
for  the  book  in  which  was  recorded  the  laws  of  the  men 
who  had  made  the  camp.  The  crowd  was  determined 
that  this  should  be  done  legally  and  as  prescribed  by 
ancient  custom  up  and  down  the  river.  So,  to  make  it 
self  doubly  sure,  it  gave  Runnion's  evidence  a  hearing; 
then,  taking  lanterns,  went  down  to  the  big  tarpaulin- 
covered  pile  beside  the  river,  where  it  found  the  crate 
of  hams  and  the  negro's  tracks.  There  was  no  defence 
for  the  culprit  and  he  offered  none,  being  too  scared 
by  now  to  do  more  than  plead.  The  proceedings  were 
simple  and  quiet  and  grim,  and  were  wellnigh  over  when 
Lieutenant  Burrell  walked  into  the  tent  saloon.  He 
had  been  in  his  quarters  all  day,  righting  a  fight  with 
himself,  and  in  the  late  evening,  rebelling  against  his 
cramped  conditions  and  the  war  with  his  conscience, 
he  had  sallied  out,  and,  drawn  by  the  crowd  in  Stark's 
place,  had  entered. 

A  man  replied  to  his  whispered  question,  giving 
him  the  story,  for  the  meeting  was  under  Lee's  domina 
tion,  and  the  miners  maintained  an  orderly  and  busi 
ness-like  procedure.  The  chairman's  indigestion  had 
vanished  with  his  sudden  assumption  of  responsibility, 
and  he  showed  no  trace  of  drink  in  his  bearing.  Be 
neath  a  lamp  one  was  binding  four -foot  lengths  of 
cotton  tent-rope  to  a  broomstick  for  a  knout,  while 
others,  whom  Lee  had  appointed,  were  drawing  lots  to 
see  upon  whom  would  devolve  the  unpleasant  duty  of 
flogging  the  captive.  The  matter-of-fact,  relentless  ex- 

148 


MEADt    BURRELL    FINDS    A    PATH 

pedition  of  the  affair  shocked  Burrell  inexpressibly, 
and  seeing  Poleon  and  Gale  near  by,  he  edged  towards 
them,  thinking  that  they  surely  could  not  be  in  sym 
pathy  with  this  barbarous  procedure. 

"You  don't  understand,  Lieutenant,"  said  Gale,  in 
a  low  voice.  "This  nigger  is  a  thief!" 

"You  can't  kill  a  man  for  stealing  a  few  hams." 

"It  ain't  so  much  what  he  stole;  it's  the  idea,  and 
it's  the  custom  of  the  country." 

"Whipping  is  enough,  without  the  other." 

"Dis  stealin'  she's  bad  biznesse,"  declared  Poleon. 
"Mebbe  dose  ham  is  save  some  poor  feller's  life." 

"It's  mob  law,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  indignantly, 
"and  I  won't  stand  for  it." 

Gale  turned  a  look  of  curiosity  upon  the  officer. 
" How  are  you  going  to  help  yourself  ?"  said  he;  but  the 
young  man  did  not  wait  to  reply.  Quickly  he  elbowed 
his  way  towards  the  centre  of  the  scene  with  that  air  of 
authority  and  determination  before  which  a  crowd 
melts  and  men  stand  aside.  Gale  whispered  to  his 
companion: 

"Keep  your  eye  open,  lad.  There's  going  to  be 
trouble."  They  stood  on  tiptoe,  and  watched  eagerly. 

"Gentlemen,"  announced  Burrell,  standing  near  the 
ashen -gray  wretch,  and  lacing  the  tentful  of  men, 
"this  man  is  a  thief,  but  you  can't  kill  him!" 

Stark  leaned  across  the  bar,  his  eyes  blazing,  and 
touched  the  Lieutenant  on  the  shoulder. 

"Do  you  mean  to  take  a  hand  in  all  of  my  affairs?" 

"This  isn't  your  affair;  it's  mine,"  said  the  officer. 
"This  is  what  I  was  sent  here  for,  and  it's  my  particu 
lar  business.  You  seem  to  have  overlooked  that  in> 
portant  fact." 

"He  stole  my  stuff,  and  he'll  take  his  medicine." 
149 


THE    BARRIER 

"I  say  he  won't!" 

For  the  second  time  in  their  brief  acquaintance  these 
two  men  looked  fair  into  each  other's  eyes.  Few  men 
had  dared  to  look  at  Stark  thus  and  live ;  for  when  a 
man  has  once  shed  the  blood  of  his  fellow,  a  mania 
obsesses  him,  a  disease  obtains  that  is  incurable.  There 
is  an  excitation  of  every  sense  when  a  hunter  stands 
up  before  big  game;  it  causes  a  thrill  and  flutter  of 
undiscovered  nerves,  which  nothing  else  can  conjure 
up,  and  which  once  lived  leaves  an  incessant  hunger. 
But  the  biggest  game  of  all  is  man,  and  the  fiercest 
sensation  is  hate.  Stark  had  been  a  killer,  and  his 
brain  had  been  seared  with  the  flame  till  the  scar  was 
ineradicable.  He  had  lived  those  lurid  seconds  when 
a  man  gambles  his  life  against  his  enemy's,  and,  hav 
ing  felt  the  great  sensation,  it  could  never  die ;  yet  with 
it  all  he  was  a  cautious  man,  given  more  to  brooding 
on  his  injuries  and  building  up  a  quarrel  than  to  reck 
less  paroxysms  of  passion,  and  experience  had  taught 
him  the  value  of  a  well-handled  temper  as  well  as  the 
wisdom  of  knowing  when  to  use  it  and  put  it  in  action. 
He  knew  intuitively  that  his  hour  with  Burrell  had  not 
yet  come. 

The  two  men  battled  with  their  eyes  for  an  opening. 
Lee  and  the  others  mastered  their  surprise  at  the  inter 
ruption,  and  then  began  to  babble  until  Burrell  turned 
from  the  gambler  and  threw  up  his  arm  for  silence. 

"There's  no  use  arguing,"  he  told  the  mob.  "You 
can't  do  it»  I'll  hold  him  till  the  next  boat  comes, 
then  I'll  send  him  down-river  to  St.  Michael's." 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  negro  and  made  for  the 
door,  with  face  set  and  eyes  watchful  and  alert,  know 
ing  that  a  hair's  weight  might  shift  the  balance  and 
cause  these  men  to  rive  him  like  wolves. 

55° 


MEADE    BURRELL    FINDS    A    PATH 

Lee's  indignation  at  this  miscarriage  of  justice  had 
him  so  by  the  throat  as  to  strangle  expostulation  for 
a  moment,  till  he  saw  the  soldier  actually  bearing  off 
his  quarry.  Then  he  broke  into  a  flood  of  invective. 

41  Stop  that!"  he  bellowed.  "To  hell  with  your  law— 
we're  goin*  accordin*  to  our  own."  An  ominous  echo 
arose,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  the  miner,  in  his  blind  fury- 
forgetting  his  exalted  position,  took  a  step  too  near 
the  edge  of  the  bar,  and  fell  off  into  the  body  of  the 
meeting.  With  him  fell  the  dignity  of  the  assemblage. 
Some  one  laughed;  another  took  it  up;  the  nervous 
tension  broke,  and  a  man  cried: 

4 'The  soldier  is  right.  You  can't  blame  a  dinge  for 
stealing,"  and  another:  "  Sure!  Hogs  and  chickens  are 
legitimate  prey." 

Lee  was  helped  back  to  his  stand,  and  called  for 
order;  but  the  crowd  poked  fun  at  him,  and  began 
moving  about  restlessly  till  some  one  shouted  a  motion 
to  adjourn,  and  there  arose  a  chorus  of  seconders.  A/ 
few  dissenting  voices  opposed  them,  but  in  the  mean-\ 
time  Burrell  was  gone,  and  with  him  the  cause  of  the 
tumult;  so  the  meeting  broke  up  of  its  own  weight  a 
moment  later. 

As  Poleon  and  Gale  walked  home,  the  Frenchman 
said,  "Dat  was  nervy  t'ing  to  do." 

The  trader  made  no  answer,  and  the  other  continued, 
"Stark  is  goin'  for  kill  'im,  sure." 

"It's  a  cinch,"  agreed  Gale,  "unless  somebody  gets 
Stark  first." 

When  they  were  come  to  his  door  the  trader  paused, 
and,  looking  back  over  the  glowing  tents  and  up  at 
the  star-sprinkled  heavens,  remarked,  as  if  concluding 
some  train  of  thought,  "If  that  boy  has  got  the  nerve 
to  take  a  nigger  thief  out  of  a  miners'  meeting  and 
ii  1*1 


THE    BARRIER 

hold  him  against  this  whole  town,  he  wouldn't  hesi» 
tate  much  at  taking  a  white  man,  would  he?" 

"Wai,"  hesitated  the  other,  "mebbe  dat  would  depen* 
on  de  crime." 

"Suppose  it  was — murder?" 

"Ha!     We  ain*  got  no  men  lak*  dat  in  Flambeau.** 

They  said  good-night,  and  the  old  man  entered  his 
house  to  find  Alluna  waiting  for  him,  a  look  of  worry 
on  her  stolid  face. 

"What's  wrong?"  he  inquired. 

"All  night  Necia  has  been  weeping." 

"Is  she  sick?"  He  started  for  the  girl's  door,  but 
Alluna  stopped  him. 

"No!  It  is  not  that  kind  of  weeping;  this  comes 
from  the  heart.  It  is  there  she  is  sick.  I  went  to  her, 
but  she  grew  angry,  and  said  I  had  a  black  skin  and 
could  not  understand;  then  she  went  out-doors  and 
has  not  returned." 

Gale  sat  down  dejectedly.  "Yes,  she's  sick  in  her  heart, 
all  right,  and  so  am  I,  Alluna.  When  did  she  go  out?" 

"An  hour  ago." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"Out  by  the  river-bank — I  followed  her  in  the  shad 
ows.  It  is  best  for  her  to  stay  there  till  she  is  calm." 

"I  know  what  ails  her,"  said  the  father.  "She's 
found  that  she's  not  like  other  girls.  She's  found  that 
a  white  soul  doesn't  count  with  white  people;  they 
never  go  below  the  skin."  Then  he  told  her  of  the 
scene  that  morning  in  the  store,  adding  that  he  be 
lieved  she  loved  Lieutenant  Burrell. 

"Did  she  say  so?" 

"No,  she  denied  it,  now  that  she  knows  she  hasn't 
got  his  kind  of  blood  in  her." 

"Blood  makes  no  difference,"  said  the  woman,  stub- 
152 


MEADE    BURRELL    FINDS    A    PATH 

bornly.  "If  he  loves  her,  he  will  take  her;  if  he  does 
not— that  is  all." 

Gale  looked  up  at  her,  and  was  about  to  explain, 
when  the  utter  impossibility  of  her  comprehending 
him  made  him  desist,  and  he  fell  moody  again.  At  last 
he  said,  "I've  got  to  tell  her,  Alluna." 

"No,  no!"  cried  the  woman,  aghast.  "Don't  tell 
her  the  truth!  Nothing  could  be  worse  than  that!" 

But  he  continued,  deliberately:  "Love  is  the  biggest 
thing  in  the  world;  it's  the  only  thing  worth  while,  an^ 
she  has  got  to  have  a  fair  show  at  it.  This  has  been 
on  my  mind  for  weeks,  and  I've  put  it  away,  hoping  \ 
wouldn't  have  to  do  it;  but  to-day  I  came  face  to  fac^ 
with  it  again,  and  it's  up  to  me.  She'll  have  to  know 
some  time,  so  the  sooner  the  better/' 

"She  would  not  believe  you,"  said  the  woman,  at 
which  he  started. 

"I  never  thought  of  that,  I  wonder  if  she  would 
doubt!  I  couldn't  stand  that." 

"  There  is  no  proof,  and  it  would  mean  your  life. 
A  good  man's  life  is  a  great  price  to  pay  for  the  happi 
ness  of  one  girl — " 

"I  gave  it  once  before,"  said  Gale,  a  trifle  bitterly, 
"and  now  that  the  game  is  started  I've  got  to  play 
the  string  out;  but — I  wonder  if  she  would  doubt — " 
He  paused  for  a  long  moment.  "  Well,  I'll  have  to  risk 
it.  However,  I've  got  a  lot  of  things  to  do  first — yot 
and  the  youngsters  must  be  taken  care  of." 

"And  Stark?"  said  Alluna. 

"Yes,  and  Stark." 

Burrell  took  his  prisoner  to  the  barracks,  where  he 
placed  him  under  guard,  giving  instructions  to  hold 
him  at  any  cost,  not  knowing  what  wild  and  reckless 

153 


THE    BARRIER 

humor  the  new  citizens  of  Flambeau  might  develop 
during  the  night,  for  it  is  men  who  have  always  lived 
with  the  halter  of  the  law  tight  upon  their  necks  who 
run  wildest  when  it  is  removed.  Men  grown  old  on 
the  frontier  adhere  more  closely  to  a  rigid  code  than 
do  tenderfeet  who  feel  for  the  first  time  the  liberty 
and  license  of  utter  unrestraint,  and  it  was  these  stran 
gers  whom  the  soldier  feared  rather  than  men  like 
Gale  and  "No  Creek"  Lee,  who  would  recognize  the 
mercy  of  his  intervention  and  let  the  matter  drop. 

After  he  had  taken  every  precaution  he  went  out 
into  the  night  again,  and  fought  with  himself  as  he  had 
fought  all  that  day  and  all  the  night  before;  in  fact, 
ever  since  old  Thomas  had  come  to  him  after  leaving 
Necia,  and  had  so  cunningly  shaped  his  talk  that  Bur- 
rell  never  suspected  his  object  until  he  perceived  his 
position  in  such  a  clear  light  that  the  young  man  looked 
back  upon  his  work  with  startled  eyes.  The  Corporal  had 
spoken  garrulously  of  his  officer's  family;  of  their  pride, 
and  of  their  love  for  his  profession ;  had  dwelt  enthusi 
astically  upon  the  Lieutenant's  future  and  the  length 
he  was  sure  to  go,  and  finally  drifted  into  the  same 
story  he  had  told  Necia.  Burrell  at  last  sensed  the 
meaning  of  the  crafty  old  soldier's  strategy  and  dis 
missed  him,  but  not  before  his  work  had  been  accom 
plished.  If  a  coarse-fibred,  calloused  old  campaigner 
like  Corporal  Thomas  could  recognize  the  impossibility 
of  a  union  between  Necia  and  himself,  then  the  young 
man  must  have  been  blind  indeed  not  to  have  seen  it 
for  himself.  The  Kentuckian  was  a  man  of  strong 
and  virile  passions,  but  he  was  also  well  balanced,  and 
had  ever  followed  his  head  rather  than  his  heart, 
holding,  as  he  did,  a  deep-seated  contempt  for  weak 
men  who  laid  their  courses  otherwise.  The  genera- 


MEADE    BURRELL    FINDS    A    PATH 

tions  of  discipline  back  of  him  spoke  to  his  conscience. 
He  had  allowed  himself  to  become  attached  to  this 
girl  until — yes,  he  knew  now  he  loved  her.  If  only 
he  had  not  awakened  her  and  himself  with  that  first 
hot  kiss;  if  only —  But  there  was  no  going  back  now, 
no  use  for  regrets,  only  the  greater  necessity  of  mapping 
out  a  course  that  would  cause  her  least  unhappiness. 
If  he  could  have  run  away  he  would  have  done  so 
gladly,  but  he  was  bound  here  to  this  camp,  with  no 
possibility  of  avoiding  her. 

When  he  drove  his  reason  with  firm  hands  he  saw 
but  one  course  to  follow;  but,  when  his  mind  went 
slack  for  a  moment,  the  old  desire  to  have  her 
returned  more  strongly  than  ever,  and  he  heard  voices 
arguing,  pleading,  persuading  —  she  was  the  equal 
of  any  woman  in  the  world,  they  said,  in  mind, 
in  purity,  and  in  innocence.  He  hated  himself  for 
hesitating;  he  railed  at  his  own  indecision;  and  then, 
when  he  had  justified  his  love  and  persuaded  him^ 
self  that  he  was  right  in  seeking  this  union,  there  would 
rise  again  the  picture  of  his  people,  their  chagrin,  and 
what  would  result  from  such  a  marriage.  He  knew 
how  they  would  take  it;  he  knew  what  his  friends 
would  say,  and  how  he  would  be  treated  as  the  husband 
of  a  half-breed  Indian;  for  in  his  country  one  drop  of 
colored  blood  made  a  negro,  and  his  people  saw  but 
little  difference  between  the  red  and  the  black.  It 
would  mean  his  social  ostracism;  he  would  be  shunned 
by  his  brother  officers,  and  his  career  would  be  at  an 
end.  He  swore  aloud  in  the  darkness  that  this  was 
too  great  a  price  to  pay  for  love,  that  he  owed  it  to 
himself  and  to  his  dear  ones  at  home  to  give  up  this 
dark-eyed  maid  who  had  bewitched  him. 

He  had  wandered  far  during  this  debate,  clear  past 
1.55 


THE    BARRIER 

the  town,  and  out  through  the  Indian  village;  but 
now  that  he  believed  he  had  come  to  an  understanding 
with  himself,  he  turned  back  towards  his  quarters. 
He  knew  it  would  be  hard  to  give  her  up ;  but  he  had 
irrevocably  decided,  and  his  path  began  to  unfold  it 
self  so  clear  and  straight  that  he  marvelled  how  he 
could  have  failed  to  see  it.  He  was  glad  he  had  con 
quered,  although  the  pain  was  still  sharp.  He  felt  a 
better  man  for  it,  and,  wrapped  in  this  complacent 
optimism,  he  passed  close  by  the  front  of  the  trader's 
store,  where  Necia  had  crept  to  be  alone  with  her 
misery. 

The  high  moon  cast  a  deep,  wide  shadow  upon  the 
store  steps  where  the  girl  sat  huddled,  staring  out  into 
the  unreal  world,  waiting  for  the  night  wind  to  blow 
away  the  fears  and  forebodings  that  would  not  let  her 
sleep.  It  was  late,  and  the  hush  of  a  summer  mid 
night  lay  upon  the  distant  hills.  Burrell  had  almost 
passed  her  when  he  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  his 
name  breathed  softly;  then,  to  his  amazement,  he  saw 
her  come  forth  like  a  spirit  into  the  silver  sheen. 

" Necia!"  he  cried,  "what  are  you  doing  here  at 
this  hour?'*  She  looked  up  at  him  sadly;  he  saw  that 
her  cheeks  were  wet,  and  something  inside  him  snapped 
and  broke.  Without  a  word  he  took  her  in  his  arms, 
meeting  her  lips  in  a  long  kiss,  while  she,  trembling 
with  the  joy  of  his  strong  embrace,  drew  closer  and 
closer  and  rested  her  body  wearily  against  his. 

"Little  girl!  little  girl!"  he  whispered,  over  and 
over,  his  tone  conveying  every  shade  of  sympathy, 
love,  and  understanding  she  had  craved.  He  knew 
what  had  made  her  sad,  and  she  knew  that  he  knew. 
There  was  no  need  for  words;  the  anguish  of  this  long 
day  had  whetted  the  edge  of  their  desire,  and  they  were 

156 


MEADE    BURRELL    FINDS   A    PATH 

too  deeply,  too  utterly  lost  in  the  ecstasy  of  meeting 
to  care  for  speech. 

As  she  lay  cradled  in  his  arms,  which  alternately 
held  her  with  the  soft  tenderness  of  a  mother  and 
crushed  her  with  the  fierce  ardor  of  a  lover,  she  lost 
herself  in  the  bliss  of  a  woman's  surrender,  and  forgot 
all  her  terrifying  doubts  and  fears.  What  were  ques 
tions  of  breed  or  birth  or  color  now,  when  she  knew  he 
loved  her?  Mere  vapors  that  vanished  with  the  first 
flutter  of  warm  wings. 

Nor  did  Meade  Burrell  recall  his  recent  self -conquest 
or  pause  to  reason  why  he  should  not  love  this  little 
wisp  of  the  wilderness.  The  barriers  he  had  built 
went  down  in  the  sight  and  touch  of  his  love  and  dis 
appeared;  his  hesitation  and  infirmity  seemed  childish 
now — yes,  more  than  that,  cowardly.  He  realized  all 
in  a  moment  that  he  had  been  supremely  selfish,  that 
his  love  was  a  covenant,  a  compact,  which  he  had  en 
tered  into  with  her  and  had  no  right  to  dissolve  with 
out  her  consent,  and,  strangely  enough,  now  that  he 
acknowledged  the  bond  to  himself,  it  became  very  sweet 
and  satisfying. 

"Your  lips  cling  so  that  I  can't  get  free,"  sighed  the 
girl,  at  last. 

"You  never  shall,"  he  whispered.  But  when  she 
smiled  up  at  him  piteously,  her  eyes  swimming,  and 
said, "  I  must,"  he  wrenched  himself  away  and  let  her  go. 

As  he  went  lightly  towards  the  barracks  through 
the  far-stretching  shadows,  for  the  moon  was  yellow 
now,  Meade  Burrell  sighed  gladly  to  himself.  Again 
his  course  ran  clear  and  straight  before  him  though 
wholly  at  variance  with  the  one  he  had  decided  upon 
so  recently.  But  he  knew  not  that  his  vision  was 
obscured  and  that  the  moon-madness  was  upon  him. 

157 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHERE    THE    PATH    LED 

BY  daylight  next  morning  every  man  and  most  of 
the  women  among  the  new  arrivals  had  dis 
appeared  into  the  hills  —  the  women  in  spite  of  the 
by-laws  of  Lee's  Creek,  which  discriminated  against 
their  sex.  When  a  stampede  starts  it  does  not  end 
with  the  location  of  one  stream-bed,  nor  of  two;  every 
foot  of  valley  ground  for  miles  on  every  hand  is  pre 
empted,  in  the  hope  that  more  gold  will  be  found;  each 
creek  forms  a  new  district,  and  its  discoverers  adopt 
laws  to  suit  their  whims.  The  women,  therefore,  has 
tened  to  participate  in  the  discovery  of  new  territory 
and  in  the  shaping  of  its  government,  leaving  but  few 
of  either  sex  to  guard  the  tents  and  piles  of  provisions 
standing  by  the  river-bank.  In  two  days  they  began 
to  return,  and  straggled  in  at  intervals  for  a  week 
thereafter,  for  many  had  gone  far. 

And  now  began  a  new  era  for  Flambeau — an  era  of 
industry  such  as  the  frontier  town  had  never  known. 
The  woods  behind  rang  with  the  resounding  discords 
of  axes  and  saws  and  crashing  timber,  and  new  cabins 
appeared  on  every  hand,  rising  in  a  day.  The  sluggish 
air  was  noisy  with  voices,  and  the  edge  of  the  forest 
receded  gradually  before  the  busy  pioneers,  replacing 
the  tall  timbers  with  little,  high -banked  homes  of 
<5>ruce  and  white-papered  birch.  From  dawn  till  dark 

158 


WHERE    THE    PATH    LED 

the  rhythmic  rasp  of  men  whip-sawing  floor  lum 
ber  to  the  tune  of  two  hundred  dollars  per  thousand; 
and  with  the  second  steamer  came  a  little  steam  saw 
mill,  which  raised  its  shrill  complaint  within  a  week, 
punctuating  the  busy  day  with  its  piping  whistle. 

The  trail  along  the  Flambeau  was  dotted  continu 
ously  with  toiling  human  beasts  of  burden,  that  floun 
dered  laboriously  beneath  great  packs  of  provisions  and 
tools  and  other  baggage,  winding  like  an  endless  stream 
of  ants  through  the  hills  to  "No  Creek"  Lee  Creek, 
where  they  re-enacted  the  scenes  that  were  occurring  in 
the  town.  Tents  and  cabins  were  scattered  throughout 
the  length  of  the  valley,  lumber  was  sawed  for  sluice- 
boxes,  and  the  virginal  breezes  that  had  sucked  through 
this  seam  in  the  mountains  since  days  primeval  came 
to  smell  of  spruce  fires  and  echo  with  the  sounds  of  life. 

A  dozen  teats  were  pitched  on  Lee's  discovery  claim, 
for  the  owner  had  been  besieged  by  men  who  clamored 
to  lease  a  part  of  his  ground,  and,  yielding  finally,  he 
had  allotted  to  each  of  them  a  hundred  feet.  Forth 
with  they  set  about  opening  their  portions,  for  the 
ground  was  shallow,  and  the  gold  so  near  the  surface 
that  winter  would  interfere  with  its  extraction;  where 
fore,  they  made  haste.  The  owner  oversaw  them  all, 
complacent  in  the  certainty  of  a  steady  royalty  accru 
ing  from  the  working  of  his  allotments. 

Every  day  there  came  into  Flambeau  exaggerated 
reports  of  new  strikes  in  other  spots,  of  strong  indica 
tions  and  of  rich  prospects  elsewhere.  Stories  grew 
out  of  nothing,  until  the  camp  took  an  hysterical  pleas 
ure  in  exciting  itself  and  deceiving  every  stranger  who 
came  from  north  or  south,  for  the  wine  of  discovery 
was  in  them  all,  and  it  pleased  them  to  distort  and  en 
large  upon  every  rumor  that  came  their  way,  such  being 


THE   BARRIER 

the  temper  of  new  gold-fields.    They  knew  they  were 
lying,  and  that  all  other  men  were  lying  also,  and  yet 
they  hearkened  to  each  tale  and  almost  deceived  them 
selves, 

Burrell  sought  Necia  at  an  early  day  and,  in  pres 
ence  of  her  father,  told  her  that  he  had  been  ap< 
preached  by  men  who  wished  to  lease  the  claims  he 
held  for  her0  It  would  prove  an  inexpensive  way  tc 
develop  her  holdings,  he  said,  and  she  would  run  no 
risk;  moreover,  it  would  be  rapid,  and  insure  a  quick 
return,  for  a  lease  so  near  to  proven  territory  was  in 
great  demand.  After  some  discussion  this  was  ar 
ranged,  and  Meade,  as  trustee,  allotted  her  ground  in 
tracts,  as  Lee  had  done.  Poleon  followed  suit ;  but  the 
trader  chose  to  prospect  his  own  claims,  and  to  that 
end  called  in  a  train  of  stiff-backed  Indian  packers, 
moved  a  substantial  outfit  to  the  creek,  and  thereafter 
spent  much  of  his  time  in  the  hills,  leaving  the  store 
to  Doret.  He  seemed  anxious  to  get  away  from  the 
camp  and  hide  himself  in  the  woods.  Stark  was  al 
most  constantly  occupied  at  his  saloon,  for  it  was  a 
mint,  and  ran  day  and  night.  Runnion  was  busy 
with  the  erection  of  a  substantial  structure  of  squared 
logs,  larger  than  the  trading-post,  destined  as  a  dance- 
hall,  theatre,  and  gambling  -  house.  Flambeau,  the 
slumbrous,  had  indeed  aroused  itself,  stretched  its 
limbs,  and  sprung  into  vigorous,  virile,  feverish  being^ 
and  the  wise  prophets  were  predicting  another  Daw- 
son  for  it,  notwithstanding  that  many  blank  spots  had 
been  found  as  the  creek  of  Lee's  finding  bared  its  bed 
rock  to  the  miners.  These  but  enhanced  the  value 
of  the  rich  finds,  however,  for  a  single  stroke  of  good- 
fortune  will  more  than  offset  a  dozen  disappointments 
The  truth  is,  the  stream  was  very  spottedfl 

160 


WHERE   THE    PATH    LED 

had  by  chance  hit  upon  one  of  the  bars  where  the  metal 
had  lodged,  while  others  above  and  below  uncovered 
a  bed-rock  as  barren  as  a  clean-swept  floor.  In  places 
they  cross-cut  from  rim  to  rim,  drove  tunnels  and  drains 
and  drifts,  sunk  shafts  and  opened  trenches  without 
finding  a  color  that  would  ring  when  dropped  in  the, 
pan;  but  that  was  an  old,  old  story,  and  they  were 
used  to  it. 

During  these  stirring  weeks  of  unsleeping  activity 
Burrell  saw  little  of  Necia,  for  he  had  many  things  to 
occupy  him,  and  she  was  detained  much  in  the  store, 
now  that  her  father  was  away,,  When  they  met  for  a 
moment  they  were  sure  to  be  interrupted,  while  in  and 
around  the  house  Alluna  seemed  to  be  always  near  her. 
Even  so,  she  was  very  happy ;  for  she  was  sustained  by 
the  constant  hectic  excitement  that  was  in  the  air  and 
by  her  brief  moments  with  Meade,  which  served  to 
gladden  her  and  make  of  the  days  one  long,  delicious, 
hopeful  procession  of  undisturbed  dreams  and  fancies. 
He  was  the  same  fond  lover  as  on  that  adventurous 
journey  up  Black  Bear  Creek,  and  wooed  her  with  a 
reckless  fire  that  set  her  aglow.  And  so  she  hummed 
and  laughed  and  dreamed  the  days  away,  her  happi 
ness  matching  the  peace  and  gladness  of  the  season, 

With  Burrell,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  a  season  of 
penance  and  flagellations  of  spirit,  lightened  only  by 
the  moments  when  he  was  with  her,  and  when  she 
made  him  forget  all  else.  This  damnable  indecision 
goaded  him  to  self-contempt;  he  despised  himself  for 
his  weakness,  his  social  instincts  and  training,  his  sense 
of  dutys  and  the  amenities  of  liie  that  proud  men  hold 
dear  tugged  steadily,  untiringly  at  his  reason,  while 
the  little  imp  of  impulse  sat  grinning  wickedly,  ready 
to  pop  out  and  upset  all  his  high  resolutions.  Ifc  raised 

161 


THE    BARRIER 

such  a  tumult  in  his  ears  that  he  could  not  hear  the 
other  voices;  it  stirred  his  blood  till  it  leaped  and 
pounded,  and  then  ran  off  with  him  to  find  this  tiny 
brown  and  beaming  witch  who  was  at  the  bottom  of 
it  all. 

No  months  in  any  clime  can  compare  with  an  Arctic 
summer  when  Nature  is  kind,  for  she  crowds  into  this 
short  epoch  all  the  warmth  and  brightness  and  splen 
dor  that  is  spread  over  longer  periods  in  other  lands, 
and  every  growing  thing  rejoices  riotously  in  scent 
and  color  and  profusion.  It  was  on  one  of  these 
heavenly  days,  spiced  with  the  faintest  hint  of  autumn, 
that  Necia  received  the  news  of  her  good-fortune.  One 
of  her  leasers  came  into  the  post  to  show  her  and  Po- 
leon  a  bag  of  dust.  He  and  his  partner  had  found 
the  pay-streak  finally,  and  he  had  corne  to  notify  her 
that  it  gave  promise  of  being  very  rich,  and  now  that 
its  location  was  demonstrated,  no  doubt  the  other  "lay 
men  "  would  have  it  within  a  fortnight.  As  all  of  them 
were  ready  to  begin  sluicing  as  soon  as  the  ground  could 
be  stripped,  undoubtedly  they  would  be  able  to  take 
out  a  substantial  stake  before  winter  settled  and  the 
first  frost  closed  them  down. 

She  took  the  news  quietly  but  with  shining  eyes, 
though  her  pleasure  was  no  greater  or  more  genuine 
than  Poleon's,  who  grasped  both  her  hands  in  his  and 
shouted,  gleefully: 

"Bien!  I'm  glad!  You'll  be  riche  gal  for  sure  now, 
an*  wear  plaintee  fine  dress  lak*  I  fetch  you.  Jus*  t'ink, 
you  fin*  gol'  on  your  place  more  queecker  dan  you* 
fader,  an*  he's  good  miner,  too.  Ha!  Dat's  bully!" 

"  Oh,  Poleon!  I'll  be  a  fine  ladr,  after  all,"  she  cried— 
"just  as  I've  dreamed  about!  Wasn't  it  beautiful,  that 
pile  of  yellow  grains  and  nuggets?  Dear,  dear!  And 

162 


WHERE    THE    PATH    LED 

part  of  it  is  mine!     You  know  I've  never  had  money, 
I  wonder  what  it  is  like  to  be  rich!" 

"How  I'm  goin*  tell  you  dat?" 

"Oh,  well,  they  will  find  it  on  your  claims  very  soon." 

He  shook  his  head.  "You  better  knock  wood  w'en 
you  say  dat.  Mebbe  I  draw  de  blank  again;  nobody 
can't  tell.  I've  do  de  sam*  t'ing  before,  an1  dose  men 
w'at  been  workin'  my  groun*  dey're  gettin'  purty  blue." 

"It's  impossible.  You're  sure  to  strike  it,  or  if  you 
don't,  you  can  have  half  of  what  I  make — I'll  be  too 
wealthy,  anyhow,  so  you  might  as  well." 

He  laughed  again,  at  which  she  suddenly  remembered 
that  he  had  not  laughed  very  much  of  late,  or  else  she 
had  been  too  deeply  absorbed  in  her  own  happiness  to 
mark  the  lack  of  his  songs  and  merriment, 

"When  you  do  become  a  Flambeau  king,**  she  con 
tinued,  "what  will  you  do  with  yourself?  Surely  you 
won't  continue  that  search  for  your  far  country.  It 
could  never  be  so  beautiful  as  this."  She  pointed  to 
the  river  that  never  changed,  and  yet  was  never  the 
same,  and  to  the  forests,  slightly  tinged  with  the  signs 
of  the  coming  season.  "Just  look  at  the  mountains," 
she  mused,  in  a  hushed  voice;  "see  the  haze  that 
hangs  over  them — the  veil  that  God  uses  to  cover  up 
his  treasures."  She  drew  a  deep  breath.  "The  breeze 
fairly  tastes  with  clean  things,  doesn't  it?  Do  you 
know,  I've  often  wanted  to  be  an  animal,  to  have  my 
senses  sharpened  —  one  of  those  wild  things  with  a 
funny,  sharp,  cold  nose,  I'd  like  to  live  in  the  trees 
and  run  along  the  branches  like  a  squirrel,  and  drink 
in  the  perfume  that  comes  on  the  wind,  and  eat  the 
tender,  growing  things.  The  sun  is  bright  enough 
and  the  world  is  good  enough,  but  I  can't  feel  enough. 
Tin  incomplete," 


THE    BARRIER 

very  fine,'"  agreed  the  Canadian.  "I  don*  see 
w'y  anybody  would  care  for  livin'  on  dem  cities  w'en 
dere's  so  much  nice  place  outside." 

"Oh,  but  the  cities  must  be  fine  also,"  said  she, 
"though,  of  course,  they  can't  be  as  lovely  as  this. 
Won't  I  be  glad  to  see  them!" 

"Are  you  goin*  away?"  he  inquired,  quickly, 

"Of  course."  Then  glimpsing  his  downcast  face,  she 
hastened  to  add,  "That  is,  when  my  claims  turn  out 
rich  enough  to  afford  it." 

"Oh,"  he  said,  with  relief.  "Dat's  different,  1 
s'pose  it  mus'  be  purty  dull  on  dem  beeg  town;  no- 
w'ere  to  go,  not 'in'  to  see  'cept  lot  of  houses." 

"Yes,"  said  Necia,  "I've  no  doubt  one  would  get 
tired  of  it  soon,  and  long  for  something  to  do  and 
something  really  worth  while,  but  I  should  like  to  try 
it  once,  and  I  shall  as  soon  as  I'm  rich  enough.  Won't 
you  come  along?" 

"I  don'  know,"  he  said,  thoughtfully;  "mebbe  so  I 
stay  here,  mebbe  so  I  tak'  my  canoe  an'  go  away.  For 
long  tarn'  I  t'ink  dis  Flambeau  she's  de  promis'  Ian*  I 
hear  callin'  to  me,  but  I  don'  know  yet  for  w'ile." 

"What  kind  of  place  is  that  land  of  yours,  Poleon?" 

"Ha!  I  never  see  'im,  but  she's  been  cryin'  to  me 
ever  since  I'm  little  boy.  It's  a  place  w'ere  I  don*  get 
too  hot  on  de  summer  an'  too  col'  on  de  winter;  it's 
place  w'ere  birds  sing  an'  flowers  blossom  an*  de  sun 
shine,  an'  w'ere  I  can  sleep  widout  dreamin'  'bout  it  all 
de  tarn'." 

"Why,  it's  the  land  of  content — you'll  never  dis 
cover  it  by  travel.  I'll  tell  you  a  secret,  Poleon.  I've 
found  it — yes,  I  have.  It  lies  here."  She  laid  her  hand 
on  her  breast.  "Father  Barnum  told  me  the  story  of 
your  people,  and  how  it  lives  in  your  blood — that  hunger 

164 


WHERE    THE    PATH    *-ED 

to  find  the  far  places;  it's  what  drove  the  voyageurs 
and  coureur  du  bois  from  Quebec  to  Vancouver,  and 
from  the  Mississippi  to  Hudson's  Bay.  The  wander 
lust  was  their  heritage,  and  they  pushed  on  and  on 
without  rest,  like  the  salmon  in  the  spring,  but  they 
were  different  in  this:  that  they  never  came  back  to 
die." 

"Dat's  me!  I  never  see  no  place  yet  w'at  I  care  for 
die  on,  an*  I  never  see  no  place  yet  w'at  I  care  for  see 
again  'cept  dis  Flambeau.  I  lak'  it,  dis  one,  purty 
good  so  far,  but  I  ain'  know  w'en  I'm  goin'  get  tire*. 
Dat  depen's."  There  was  a  look  of  great  tenderness 
in  his  eyes  as  he  bent  towards  her  and  searched  her 
face,  but  she  was  not  thinking  of  him,  and  at  length 
he  continued: 

"Fader  Barnum,  he's  goin'  be  here  nex*  Sonday  for 
cheer  up  dem  Injun.  Constantino  she's  got  de  let 
ter." 

41  Why,  that's  the  day  after  to-morrow!"  cried  Necia. 
"Oh,  won't  I  be  glad  to  see  him!" 

"You  don*  get  dem  kin'  of  mans  on  de  beeg  cities," 
said  Poleon.  "I  ain'  never  care  for  preachin'  much, 
an'  dese  feller  w'at  all  de  tarn*  pray  an*  sing  t'rough  de 
nose,  dey  mak'  me  seeck.  But  Fader  Barnum —  Ba 
Gar!  She's  the  swell  man." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Necia,  wistfully,  "I've  always 
wanted  him  to  marry  me." 

"You  t'inkin*  'bout  marry  on  some  feller,  eh?"  said 
the  other,  with  an  odd  grin.  "Wai!  w'y  not?  He'll 
be  here  all  day  an*  night.  S'pose  you  do  it.  Mos' 
anybody  w'at  ain'  got  some  wife  already  will  be  glad 
for  marry  on  you — an'  mebbe  some  feller  w'at  has  got 
wife,  too!  If  you  don*  lak'  dem,  an'  if  you're  goin' 
many  on  somebody,  you  can  be  wife  to  me." 


THE    BARRIER 

Necia  laughed  lightly.  "I  believe  you  would  marry 
me  if  I  wanted  you  to;  you've  done  everything  else 
I've  ever  asked.  But  you  needn't  be  afraid;  I  won't 
take  you  up.*'  In  all  her  life  this  man  had  never  spoken 
of  love  to  her,  and  she  had  no  hint  of  the  dream  he 
cherished.  He  had  sung  his  songs  to  her  and  told  her 
stories  till  his  frank  and  boyish  mind  was  like  an  open 
page  to  her;  she  knew  the  romance  that  was  the  very 
fibre  of  him,  and  loved  his  exaggerated  chivalry,  for  it 
minded  her  of  old  tales  she  had  read;  but  that  he  could 
care  for  her  save  as  a  friend,  as  a  brother  —  such  a 
thought  had  never  dawned  upon  her. 

While  they  were  talking  a  boat  had  drawn  inshore 
and  made  fast  to  the  bank  in  front  of  them.  An  Ind 
ian  landed  and,  approaching,  entered  into  talk  with 
the  Frenchman. 

By-and-by  Poleon  turned  to  the  girl,  and  said: 

"Dere's  'hondred  marten -skin  come  in;  you  min* 
de  store  w'ile  I  mak'  trade  wit'  dis  man." 

Together  the  two  went  down  to  the  boat,  leaving 
Necia  behind,  and  not  long  after  Runnion  sauntered 
up  to  the  store  and  addressed  her  familiarly. 

"Hello,  Necia!  I  just  heard  about  the  strike  on 
your  claim.  That's  fine  and  dandy." 

She  acknowledged  nis  congratulations  curtly,  for 
although  it  was  customary  for  most  of  the  old-timers 
to  call  her  by  her  Christian  name,  she  resented  it  from 
this  man.  She  chose  to  let  it  pass,  however. 

"I  had  some  good  news  lart  night  myself,"  he  con 
tinued.  "One  of  my  men  has  hit  some  good  dirt,  and 
we'll  know  what  it  means  in  a  day  or  so.  I'll  gamble 
we're  into  the  money  big,  though,  for  I  always  was  a 
lucky  cuss.  Say,  where's  your  father?" 

"He's  out  at  the  mine." 

1 66 


WHERE    THE    PATH    LED 

"We've  used  up  all  of  our  bar  sugar  at  the  saloon, 
and  I  want  to  buy  what  you've  got." 

"Very  well,  I'll  get  it  for  you." 

He  followed  her  inside,  watching  her  graceful  move 
ments,  and  attempting,  with  his  free-and-easy  insolence, 
to  make  friendly  advances,  but,  seeing  that  she  refused 
to  notice  him,  he  became  piqued,  and  grew  bolder. 

"Look  here,  Necia,  you're  a  mighty  pretty  girl. 
I've  had  my  eye  on  you  ever  since  I  landed,  and  the 
more  I  see  of  you  the  better  I  like  you." 

"It  isn't  necessary  to  tell  me  that,"  she  replied, 
"The  price  of  the  sugar  will  be  just  the  same." 

"Yes,  and  you're  bright,  too,"  he  declared.  "  That's 
what  I  like  in  a  woman  —  good  looks  and  brains. 
I  believe  in  strong  methods  and  straight  talk,  too; 
none  of  this  serenading  and  moonlight  mush  for  me. 
When  I  see  a  girl  I  like,  I  go  and  get  her.  That's  me. 
I  make  love  like  a  man  ought  to — " 

"Are  you  making  love  to  me?"  she  inquired,  curi 
ously. 

"It's  a  little  bit  sudden,  I  know,  but  a  man  has  ta 
begin  some  time.  I  think  you'd  just  about  suit  me. 
We'll  both  have  money  before  long,  and  I'll  be  good  tc 
you." 

The  girl  laughed  derisively  in  his  face. 

"Now  don't  get  sore.  I  mean  business.  I  don't 
wear  a  blue  coat  and  use  a  lot  of  fancy  words,  and  then 
throw  you  down  when  I've  had  my  fun,  and  I  don't 
hang  around  and  spoil  your  chances  with  other  men 
either." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,  I'm  no  soft-talking  Southerner  with  gold 
buttons  and  highfalutin'  ways.  I  don't  care  if  you  are 
a  squaw,  I'll  take  you—  " 

M  162 


THE    BARRIER 

"Don't  talk  to  me!"  she  cried,  in  disgust,  her  voict 
hot  with  anger  and  resentment. 

But  he  continued,  unheeding:  "Now,  cut  out  these 
airs  and  get  down  to  cases.  I  mean  what  I  say.  I 
know  you've  been  casting  sheep's  eyes  at  Burrell,  but, 
Lord!  he  wouldn't  have  you,  no  matter  how  rich  you 
get.  Of  course,  you  acted  careless  in  going  off  alone 
with  him,  but  I  don't  mind  what  they're  saying  around 
camp,  for  I've  made  little  slips  like  that  myself,  and 
we'd  get  along — " 

"I'll  have  you  killed!"  she  hissed,  through  her 
clinched  teeth,  while  her  whole  body  vibrated  with  pas 
sion.  "I'll  call  Poleon  and  have  him  shoot  you!"  She 
pointed  to  the  river-bank  a  hundred  yards  away,  where 
the  Canadian  was  busy  assorting  skins. 

But  he  only  laughed  at  her  show  of  temper,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  answered  her,  roughly: 

"Understand  me,  I'm  on  the  square.  So  think  it 
over,  and  don't  go  up  in  the  air  like  a  sky-rocket." 

She  cried  out  at  him  to  "Go — go — go!"  and  finally 
he  took  up  his  bundle,  saying,  as  he  stepped  out  slowly: 

"All  right!  But  I'm  coming  back,  and  you'll  have 
to  listen  to  me.  I  don't  mind  being  called  a  squaw- 
man.  You're  pretty  near  white,  and  you're  good 
enough  for  me.  I'll  treat  you  right — why,  I'll  even 
marry  you  if  you're  dead  set  on  it.  Sure!" 

She  could  scarcely  breathe,  but  checked  her  first  in 
clination  to  call  Poleon,  knowing  that  it  needed  only  a 
word  from  her  to  set  that  nut-brown  savage  at  Run- 
nion's  throat.  Other  thoughts  began  to  crowd  her 
brain  and  to  stifle  her.  The  fellow's  words  had  stabbed 
her  consciousness,  and  done  something  for  her  that 
gentler  means  would  not  have  accomplished ;  they  had 
opened  her  eyes  to  a  thing  that  she  had  forgotten — a 

1 68 


WHERE    THE    PATH    LED 

hideous  thing  that  had  reared  its  fangs  once  before  to 
strike,  but  which  her  dreams  of  happiness  had  driven 
out  of  her  Eden.  All  at  once  she  saw  the  wrong  that 
had  been  done  her,  and  realized  from  this  brute's  in 
sult  that  those  early  fears  had  been  well  grounded.  It 
suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  in  all  the  hours  she  had 
spent  with  her  lover,  in  all  those  unspeakably  sweet  and 
intimate  hours,  there  had  never  been  one  word  of  mar 
riage.  He  had  looked  into  her  eyes  and  vowed  he 
could  not  live  without  her,  and  yet  he  had  never  said 
the  words  he  should  have  said,  the  words  that  would 
bind  her  to  him.  His  arms  and  his  lips  had  comforted 
her  and  stilled  her  fears,  but  after  all  he  had  merely 
made  love.  A  cold  fear  crept  over  the  girl.  She  re 
called  the  old  Corporal's  words  of  a  few  weeks  ago,  and 
her  conversation  with  Stark  came  back  to  her.  What 
if  it  were  true — that  which  Runnion  implied  ?  What  if 
he  did  not  intend  to  ask  her,  after  all  ?  What  if  he  had 
only  been  amusing  himself?  She  cried  out  sharply  at 
this,  and  when  Doret  staggered  in  beneath  a  great  load 
of  skins  he  found  her  in  a  strange  excitement.  When 
he  had  finished  his  accounting  with  the  Indian  and  dis 
missed  him,  she  turned  an  agitated  face  to  the  French 
man. 

"Poleon,"  she  said,  "I'm  in  trouble.  Oh,  I'm  in 
such  awful  trouble!" 

"It's  dat  Runnion!  I  seen  'im  pass  on  de  store  w'ile 
I'm  down  below."  His  brows  knit  in  a  black  scowl, 
and  his  voice  slid  off  a  pitch  in  tone.  "W'at  he  say, 
eh?" 

"No,  no,  it's  not  that.  He  paid  me  a  great  compli 
ment."  She  laughed  harshly.  "Why,  he  asked  me 
to  marry  him."  The  man  beside  her  cursed  at  this, 
but  she  continued:  "Don't  blame  him  for  liking 

169 


THE    BARRIER 

I'm  the  only  woman  for  five  hundred  miles  around— 
or  I  was  until  this  crowd  came — so  how  could  he  help 
himself?  No,  he  merely  showed  me  what  a  fool  I've 
been." 

"I  guess  you  better  tell  me  all  'bout  dis  t'ing,"  said 
Poleon,  gravely.  "You  know  I'm  all  tarn'  ready  for 
help  you,  Necia.  Wen  you  was  little  feller  an'  got 
bust  your  finger  you  run  to  me  queeck,  an'  I  feex  it." 

"Yes,  I  know,  dear  Poleon,"  she  assented,  grate 
fully.  "You've  been  a  brother  to  me,  and  I  need  you 
now  more  than  I  ever  needed  you  before.  I  can't  go 
to  father;  he  wouldn't  understand,  or  else  he  would 
understand  too  much,  and  spoil  it  all,  his  temper  is  so 
quick." 

"I'm  not  w'at  you  call  easy-goin'  mese'f,"  the 
Canadian  said,  darkly,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  was 
deeply  agitated,  which  added  to  the  girl's  distress;  but 
she  began  to  speak  rapidly,  incoherently,  her  impul 
siveness  giving  significance  to  her  words,  so  that  the 
man  had  no  difficulty  in  following  her  drift.  With 
quick  insight  he  caught  her  meaning,  and  punctuated 
her  broken  sentences  with  a  series  of  grave  nods,  as 
suring  her  that  he  knew  and  understood.  He  had 
always  known,  he  had  always  understood,  it  seemed. 

"Don't  think  I'm  unwomanly,  Poleon,  for  I'm  not. 
I  may  be  foolish  and  faithful  and  too  trusting,  but  I'm 
not — unmaidenly.  You  see,  I've  never  been  like  other 
girls — and  he  was  so  fine,  so  different,  he  made  me  love 
him — it's  part  of  a  soldier's  training,  I  suppose.  It 
was  so  sweet  to  be  near  him,  and  to  hear  him  tell  of 
himself  and  all  the  world  he  knows — I  just  let  myself 
drift.  I'm  afraid — I'm  afraid  I  listened  too  well,  and 
my  ears  heard  more  than  he  said — my  head  is  so  full 
of  books,  you  know." 

170 


WHERE    THE    PATH    LED 

"He  should  have  know'  dat,  too,"  said  Poleon. 

"Yes,"  she  flared  up.  "He  knew  I  was  only  an 
Indian  girl." 

The  only  color  in  Doret's  face  lay  now  in  his  cheeks, 
where  the  sun  had  put  it;  but  he  smiled  at  her — his 
warm,  engaging  smile — and  laid  his  great  brown  hand 
upon  her  shoulder  softly. 

"I've  look'  in  hees  eye  an'  I'm  always  t'ink  he's  good 
man.  I  don*  never  t'ink  he'll  mak*  fun  of  poor  little 
gal." 

"But  he  has,  Poleon;  that's  just  what  he  has  done." 
She  came  near  to  breaking  down,  and  finished,  pathet 
ically,  "They're  telling  the  story  on  the  street,  so 
Runnion  says." 

"Dat's  easy  t'ing  for  feex,"  he  said.  "Runnion, 
she  don*  spread  no  more  story  lak'  dat." 

"I  don't  care  what  they  say.  I  want  the  truth. 
I  want  to  know  what  he  means,  what  his  intentions 
are.  He  swears  he  loves  me,  and  yet  he  has  never 
asked  me  to  marry  him.  He  has  gone  too  far;  he  has 
made  a  fool  of  me  to  amuse  himself,  and — and  I  couldn't 
see  it  until  to-day.  He's  laughing  at  me,  Poleon,  he's 
laughing  at  me  now!  Oh,  I  can't  bear  it!" 

The  Frenchman  took  up  his  wide  hat  from  the  coun 
ter  and  placed  it  carefully  upon  his  head,  but  she  stop 
ped  him  as  he  moved  towards  the  door,  for  she  read 
the  meaning  of  the  glare  in  his  eyes. 

"Wait  till  you  understand — wait,  I  say!  He  hasn't 
done  anything  yet." 

"Dat's  de  trouble.    I'm  goin'  mak'  'im  do  somet'ing." 

"No,  no!  It  isn't  that;  it's  these  doubts  that  are 
killing  me — I'm  not  sure — " 

'  I  hear  plaintee,"  he  said.  "Dere's  no  tarn*  for 
monkey  rounY* 


THE    BARRIER 

"I  tell  you  he  may  be  honest,"  she  declared.  "He 
may  mean  to  marry  me,  but  I've  got  to  know.  That's 
why  I  came  to  you;  that's  what  you  must  find  out  for 
me." 

"I'm  good  trader,  Necia,"  said  the  Canadian,  after  a 
moment.  "  I'll  mak'  bargain  wit'  you  now.  If  he  say 
yes,  he'll  marry  you,  I  don'  ask  no  more;  but  if  he  say 
no,  you  geeve  'im  to  me.  Is  it  go?" 

She  hesitated,  while  he  continued,  musingly,  "I 
don'  see  how  no  man  on  all  dis  worl'  could  lef  you  go." 
Then  to  her,  "Wai,  is  it  bargain?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  the  Indian  blood  speaking  now; 
"but  you  must  learn  the  truth,  there  must  be  no  mis 
take — that  would  be  terrible." 

"Dere  am*  goin'  be  no  mistakV 

"If  he  should  refuse,  I — I'll  marry  some  one,  quick. 
I  won't  be  laughed  at  by  this  camp;  I  won't  be  a  joke. 
Oh,  Poleon!  I've  given  myself  to  him  just  as  truly  as 
if — well,  he — he  has  taken  my  first  kiss." 

Doret  smote  his  hands  together  at  this  and  began 
to  roll  his  head  backward  from  side  to  side,  as  if  in 
some  great  pain,  but  his  lips  were  dry  and  silent.  After 
a  moment  the  spell  left  him,  the  fire  died  down,  leav 
ing  only  a  dumb  agony  in  its  place.  She  came  closer 
and  continued: 

"I'll  never  let  them  point  at  me  and  say,  'There  goes 
the  squaw  that — he  threw  away.'" 

"You  mak'  dis  very  hard  fing  for  me,"  he  said, 
wearily. 

"Listen,"  she  went  on,  lashing  herself  with  pity 
and  scorn.  "You  say  Father  Barnum  will  be  here  on 
Sunday.  Well — I'll  marry  some  one,  I  don't  care 
who!"  Then,  with  a  sudden  inspiration,  she  cried, 
"I'll  marry  you — you  said  I  could  be  a  wife  to  you." 

172 


WHERE    THE    PATH    LED 

He  uttered  a  sharp  cry.     "You  mean  dat,  Necia?" 

<«Yes,"  she  declared.  "Why  not?  You'll  do  it  for 
my  sake,  won't  you?" 

"Would  you  stan'  up  wit*  me  'longside  of  de  pries', 
lovin'  dat  oder  feller  all  de  tarn'  ?"  he  asked,  queerly. 

"Yes,  yes!  I'd  rather  it  was  you  than  anybody, 
but  married  I'll  be  on  Sunday.  I'll  never  let  them 
laugh  at  me." 

Doret  held  his  silence  for  a  moment,  then  he  looked 
up  and  said,  in  level  tones: 

"It's  easy  t'ing  for  go  an*  ask  'im,  but  you  musf 
hear  hees  answer  wit'  your  own  ears — den  you  can't 
t'ink  I'm  lyin*.  I'll  fetch  'im  'ere  on  dis  place  if  you 
feex  it  for  hide  you'se'f  behin'  dose  post."  He  indi 
cated  a  bundle  of  furs  that  were  suspended  against  a 
pillar,  and  which  offered  ample  room  for  concealment. 
J'Dere's  goin'  be  no  lies  to-day." 

He  pulled  himself  together  and  went  out,  with  the 
tired  gait  of  an  old  man,  his  great  shock  head  bowed 
low.  A  few  moments  later  he  returned. 

"I've  sent  liT  Jean  for  'im.  You  get  in  dere  out  of 
sight — an'  wait." 


CHAPTER  XII 

A      TANGLE  D      SKEIN 

WHEN  Burrell  entered  he  wasted  no  time  in 
greetings. 

"I  know  why  you  sent  for  me,  Poleon.  I've  heard 
the  news,  and  I  would  have  been  up  anyhow  to  con 
gratulate  her  very  soon.  I  call  it  pretty  fine." 

"Yes,  dere's  been  beeg  strike  all  right,  an*  Necia 
is  goin'  be  riche  gal." 

"I'm  as  pleased  as  if  the  claim  were  mine,  and  you 
feel  the  same  way,  of  course." 

The  Frenchman  nodded.  "I  love  Necia  very  much, 
lak'— well,  lak'  I'm  broder  to  her."  The  knowledge 
that  she  was  listening  made  him  very  uncomfortable 
— in  fact,  this  whole  affair  savored  more  of  double- 
dealing  and  treachery  than  anything  he  had  ever  at 
tempted,  and  it  went  sorely  against  his  grain,  but  it 
had  presented  itself  as  the  only  way  to  help  her,  and 
he  proceeded,  groping  haltingly  for  fit  expression, 
"Dere's  t'ing  I  want  for  talk  'bout  wit'  you,  but  I'm 
scare*  you'll  t'ink  I'm  butt  in." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Burrell.  "I  know  you  too  well  for 
that." 

"You  know  me  for  good  man,  eh?  An*  you  know 
I  ain*  try  for  bre'k  up  oder  fellers'  biznesse,  never! 
Wai,  I'm  come  to  you  now  lak'  wan  good  man  to 

174 


A    TANGLED    SKEIN 

'noder  biccause  I'm  got  bad  trouble  on  de  minf,  an*  you 
mus'n't  get  sore." 

"There's  no  danger,  Poleon.  Let's  have  it.  If  there 
is  anything  I  can  do,  you  may  count  on  me." 

"Wai,"  he  began,  nervously,  clearing  his  throat, 
"it's  lak*  dis.  Dere's  fellei  been  talk  some  'bout 
Necia,  an*  it  ain'  nice  talk  neider." 

"Who  is  he?"  exclaimed  the  soldier,  in  a  tone  that 
made  the  girl's  heart  leap. 

"Wait!  Lemme  tol'  you  w'at  he  say,  den  we'll  talk 
*bout  feex  'im  plaintee.  He  say  dere's  joke  down  on 
Stark 's  saloon  dat  Necia  Gale  is  mak  fool  of  herse'f 
on  you,  an*  dat  you  ain'  care  for  marry  her." 

"Runnion!"  cried  Burrell,  and  started  for  the  door. 
"  I'll  settle  with  him  now  for  fair!"  But  Poleon  blocked 
his  way,  and,  observing  him  gravely,  continued,  in  a 
tone  that  the  other  could  not  disregard  nor  mistake: 

'No,  M'sieu',  before  you  pass  on  dat  place  you'll  tol' 
me  if  it's  true." 

"True!"  the  Lieutenant  retorted,  angrily.  "What 
business  is  it  of  yours?  This  concerns  me." 

"An'  me,  too!  I'm  w'at  you  call  gardeen  for  Necia 
till  John  Gale  come  back,  an*  I'm  broder  of  her,  too. 
You  promis*  jus'  now  you  don'  get  mad,  an'  I  don'  say 
she's  Runnion  neider  w'at  spik  dose  t'ing;  dere's 
more  dan  'im  been  talkin*.  Is  it  true?" 

His  sternness  offended  Burrell,  for  the  soldier  was 
not  the  kind  to  discuss  his  affairs  in  this  way,  there 
fore  he  drew  back  scowling. 

"Poleon  Doret,"  he  said,  "it's  not  one  s  enemies 
who  do  him  injury,  it's  his  damned  fool  friends.  I 
have  learned  to  regard  you  highly  because  you  are  a 
brave  man  and  an  honest  one,  but  it  seems  that  you 
are  a  sentimental  idiot." 

375 


THE    BARRIER 

"Dem  is  tough  word,"  Doret  replied.  "But  dere's 
reason  w*y  I  can't  tak'  on  no  madnesse.  You  say  I'm 
bones'.  Wai,  I'm  hones'  now,  an'  I  come  to  you  wit* 
fair  words  an'  I  show  my  ban'  to  you — I  don1  hoi*  out 
no  cards,  ITaeu* — but  I  don'  tlnk  it  is  you  who  have 
play  square,  altogeder.  I'm  Necia's  frien',  an'  111 
fi^lit  for  her  jus'  so  queecker  lak*  you,  but  I  mus'  know 
dis  t'tng  for  sure,  so  if  you  have  de  good  heart  an*  de 
courage  of  good  man  you'll  tell  me  de  truth.  Do  you 
have  the  feelin'  for  marry  on  her?" 

The  pause  that  followed  was  awkward  for  both  of 
them,  while  the  girl,  who  stood  concealed  near  by,  held 
lier  breath  am\  buried  her  nails  in  her  palms.  Why 
did  he  hesitate?  Would  he  never  speak?  It  seemed 
no*,  for  he  swung  between  diverse  emotions — anger  that 
tnifi  outsider'  should  question  njTT\  on  so  intimate  a 
matter,  chagrin  at  the  knowledge  of  having  injured 
Necia,  and  rage,  blind  rage,  at  the  thought  of  its  be 
coming  a  bar-room  topic.  Gradually  the  conviction 
grew  that  it  was  not  a  question  of  idle  curiosity  with 
Doret,  and  the  man's  history  recurred  to  him.  No 
wonder  he  was  interested  in  the  girl,  no  wonder  he 
wished  to  guard  her;  he  had  been  a  brother  indeed. 
even  as  he  said,  and  he  could  have  no  motive  save  an 
honorable  one.  It  never  occurred  to  the  soldier  that 
this  Frenchman  could  harbor  feelings  akin  to  his  own. 
The  man  was  rough  and  foreign;  his  thoughts  had 
been  couched  in  harsher  language,  perhaps,  than  he 
intended  moreover,  the  fellow's  high  sense  of  honor 
was  a  byvo-rd — and  of  a  sodden  the  desire  to  set  him 
self  right  in  this  man's  eyes  dictated  his  answer. 

"I  am  amazed  at  myself  for  |«fcpmng  to  you,**  hs 
said,  at  last,  "and  quite  shocked,  in  fact,  at  my  an* 
your  que^cus,  :u:  c-erl^r-s  I'd  b<=::er,  after 
17* 


A    TANGLED    SKEIN 

Alt.  First,  however,  let  me  say  that  the  little  girl  is 
just  as  pure  now  as  she  was  before  she  knew  me — •" 

Poleon  threw  up  his  hand.  "M'sieu*,  dat's  more 
closer  to  de  insult  dan  w'at  you  call  me  jus*  now. 
You  don*  need  for  spoke  it." 

"You're  right!  There's  no  need  to  tell  you  that. 
As  for  showing  her  certain  attentions — well,  I  admit 
that  I  have,  as  you  know,  but,  thank  God,  I  can  say 
I've  been  a  gentleman  and  addressed  her  as  I  would 
the  fairest  1-idy  I've  known." 

"An*  you  mean  for  marry,  eh?"  probed  the  other. 

Now,  no  man  could  have  answered  such  a  direct 
question  easily,  and  in  this  case  it  was  especially  hard 
for  the  Kentuckian.  who  was  torn  between  his  un 
governable  desire  and  that  decision  which  cold  reason 
had  thrust  upon  him.  He  wanted  to  say,  "Yes,  I'll 
marry  her  to-morrow,"  but  something  bade  him  pause 
before  he  sacrificed  upon  this  altar  of  a  youthful  love 
his  life,  his  hopes,  his  ambitions.  Had  he  not  wrestled 
with  himself  for  months  in  thinking  it  all  out,  until 
his  mind  was  weary  and  listless  with  the  effort?  For 
the  great  test  that  tries  a  man's  soul  and  compels  him 
to  know  himself  had  not  yet  come  to  Meade  Burrell; 
wherefore,  he  hesitated  long. 

"I  did  not  say  so,"  he  declared,  at  last.  "It's  a 
thing  I  can't  well  discuss,  because  I  doubt  if  you  could 
understand  what  I  would  say.  This  life  of  yours  is  dif 
ferent  from  mine,  and  it  would  be  useless  for  me  to 
explain  the  reason  why  I  cannot  many  her.  Leaving 
out  all  question  of  my  sentiment,  there  are  insur 
mountable  obstacles  to  such  a  union;  but  as  to  '.his  talk, 
I  think  that  can  be  stopped  without  annoyance  to  her, 
and  as  for  the  rest,  we  must  trust  to  time  to  bring 
about  a  proper  adjustment — " 


THE    BARRIER 

A  low,  discordant  sound  of  laughter  arrested  hit 
words,  and,  turning,  he  beheld  Necia  standing  revealed 
in  the  dimness. 

"What  an  amusing  person  you  are!"  she  said.  "I've 
had  hard  work  holding  in  all  this  time  while  you  were 
torturing  your  mind  and  twisting  the  honest  English 
language  out  of  shape  and  meaning,  I  knew  I  should 
have  to  laugh  sooner  or  Iater0" 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  he  demanded.  "Is 
it  a  joke?" 

"Indeed  it  is,"  she  declared,  laughing  afresh,  "and 
the  best  I've  ever  enjoyed.  Wasn't  it  funny,  Poleon  " 
— she  turned  gayly  to  the  Frenchman,  but  he  stood  like 
one  petrified — "to  see  him  debating  coolly  whether  he 
cared  for  me  enough  to  face  the  world  with  me,  and 
trying  to  explain  to  you  that  he  was  too  good  to  marry 
a  squaw  ?  Oh,  you  were  very  gentlemanly  about  it,  sir, 
and  you  wouldn't  have  hurt  my  feelings  for  the  world!" 

"Necia!" 

"That's  your  Dixie  chivalry,  I  suppose.  Well,  I've 
played  with  you  long  enough,  Lieutenant  Burrell,  I'm 
tired  of  the  game,  and  you  interest  me  no  longer." 

"You — you — say  you've  been  playing  with  me!" 
stammered  the  man.  The  bottom  of  things  seemed 
suddenly  to  slide  from  under  him;  he  was  like  one 
sinking  in  some  hideous  quagmire.  He  felt  as  if  he 
were  choking, 

"Why,  of  course,"  she  cried,  scornfully,  "just  as 
you  took  me  up  for  amusement.  You  were  such  a 
fine,  well-dressed,  immaculate  mound  of  conceit  that 
I  couldn't  resist  the  temptation,  and  you  hid  your 
condescension  so  poorly  that  I  thought  you  ought  to 
be  taken  down  a  peg.  I  knew  I  was  a  squaw,  but  I 
wanted  to  see  if  I  were  not  like  other  women,  after  all* 


A    TANGLED    SKEIN 

and  if  you  were  not  like  other  men."  She  was  talking 
rapidly  now,  almost  shrilly,  for  she  had  never  attempt 
ed  to  act  before,  while  he  stood  dazed  and  speechless, 
fumbling  at  his  throat  while  she  railed  at  him.  "You 
needn't  waste  time  debating  whether  I'm  good  enough 
for  you,  because  I'm  not — decidedly,  I'm  not  your  kind, 
and  you  are  a  joke  to  me." 

He  uttered  an  inarticulate  cry,  but  she  ran  on  un 
heeding,  her  eyes  wide  and  glowing  like  coals,  her  lips 
chalk-white.  "You  see,  it's  time  I  stopped  such  fool 
ishness,  anyhow,  for  I'm  to  be  married  on  Sunday." 

"You  are  going  to  be  married?"  he  muttered, 
laboriously. 

"Yes,  to  Poleoo,  Why,  that's  been  understood  for 
years." 

He  whirled  upon  the  Canadian  in  a  fury,  and  his 
words  came  hot  and  tumbling. 

"So  you're  in  this,  Doret.  You're  a  part  of  this 
Kttle  farce.  You  trapped  me  here  to  make  a  fool  of 
me,  did  you?  Well,  I  can  settle  with  you — " 

"D-don't  blame  him!"  cried  the  girl,  hysterically. 
*'It  is  all  my  doing.  He  had  no  part  in  it." 

Burrell  wheeled  back  to  the  Frenchman  again.  "Is 
this  true?" 

"Yes,"  said  Doret,  in  a  restrained  voice.  "Dis  ain' 
no  work  of  mine." 

"You're  a  liar!"  breathed  the  Kentuckian,  now  fair- 
ly  wild  with  anger;  but  the  other  looked  him  squarely 
between  the  eyes  and  made  no  move. 

"M'sieu',"  he  cried,  "I'm  livin'  t'orty  year,  an*  never 
took  no  nam'  lak'  dat  before,  but  dere's  reason  here 
w'y  I  can't  mak'  no  answer."  He  inclined  his  head 
towards  the  girl,  and  before  Burrell  could  break  out 
again  he  checked  him. 

179 


THE    BARRIER 

"It's  no  good  mak'  fight  wit'  lesser  dan  two  people. 
You've  tol'  me  dat  you  are  gentleman.  Wai,  I  am* 
nobody  but  trapper  an'  trader,  but  I  don'  spoil  de  name 
of  no  good  girl,  an'  I  don'  quarrel  in  presence  of  lady, 
so  mebbe,  affer  all,  dere's  mistak'  somew'ere,  an'  I'm 
gentleman  mese'f  'stead  of  you." 

"Why,  you  aren't  really  angry,  Lieutenant?"  mock 
ed  Necia.  "It's  only  the  joke  of  an  ignorant  half- 
breed  girl  whose  sense  of  humor  is  all  out  of  gear.  You 
mustn't  quarrel  over  a  squaw!" 

She  taunted  him  like  a  baited  badger,  for  this  thing 
was  getting  beyond  her  control  and  the  savage  in 
stincts  of  the  wilderness  were  uppermost. 

"You  are  quite  right,"  he  replied.  "I  am  very 
foolish,  and  the  laugh  is  with  you."  His  lips  tried 
to  frame  a  smile,  but  failed,  and  he  added:  "Your 
wit  is  not  my  kind,  that  is  all.  I  beg  you  both  to  ac 
cept  my  congratulations  on  your  nuptials.  Undoubt 
edly,  you  will  be  happy  together;  two  people  with 
such  similar  ideas  of  humor  must  have  much  to 
enjoy  in  common."  He  bowed  low  and,  turning,  walked 
out. 

The  moment  he  was  gone  she  cried,  breathlessly: 

"You  must  marry  me,  Poleon.  You've  got  to  do 
it  now." 

"Do  you  mean  dat  for  sure?"  he  said. 

"Can't  you  see  there's  nothing  else  for  it,  after  this? 
I'll  show  him  that  he  can't  make  me  a  toy  to  suit  his 
convenience.  I've  told  him  I  would  marry  you  on 
Sunday,  and  I'll  do  it  or  die.  Of  course  you  don't 
love  me,  for  you  don't  know  what  love  is,  I  suppose; 
how — could  you?"  She  broke  down  and  began  to 
catch  her  breath  amid  coughing  sobs  that  shook  her 
slender  body,  though  they  left  her  eyes  dry  and  feverish. 


A    TANGLED    SKEIN 

?*I — I'm  very  unhappy,  b-but  I'll  be  a  good — wife  to 
you.  Oh,  Poleon,  if  you  only  knew — " 

He  drew  a  long  breath.  When  he  spoke  his  voice 
had  the  timbre  of  some  softly  played  instrument,  and 
a  tremor  ran  through  his  words. 

"No!  I  don'  know  w'at  kin'  of  love  is  dis,  for  sure. 
De  kin*  of  love  I  know  is  de  kin'  I  sing  'bout  in  my 
songs;  I  s'pose  it's  different  breed  to  yours,  an'  I'm 
begin  to  see  it  don'  live  nowhere  but  on  dem  songs  of 
mine.  Dere's  long  tarn'  I  waste  here  now — five  year — 
but  to-morrow  I  go  again  lookin'  for  my  own  countree." 

"Poleon!"  she  cried,  looking  up  with  startled  eyes. 
"Not  to-morrow,  but  Sunday — we  will  go  together." 

He  shook  his  head.  "To-morrow,  Necia!  An'  I  go 
alone." 

"Then  you  won't  —  marry  me?"  she  asked,  in  a 
hushed  and  frightened  voice. 

"No!  Dere's  wan  t'ing  I  can't  do  even  for  you, 
Necia,  dere's  wan  t'ing  I  can't  geeve,  dat's  all — jus* 
wan  on  all  de  worl'.  I  can't  kill  de  liT  god  wit'  de 
bow  an'  arrer.  He's  all  dat  mak'  de  sun  sliine,  de 
birds  sing,  an'  de  leaves  w'isper  to  me;  he's  de  wan  liT 
feller  w'at  mak'  my  life  wort'  livin'  an'  keep  music  in 
my  soul.  If  I  keel  'im  dere  am'  no  more  lef  lak'  it, 
an*  I'm  never  goin'  fin'  my  Ian'  of  content,  nor  sing 
nor  laugh  no  more.  I'm  t'inkin'  I  would  rader  sing  songs 
to  'im  all  alone  onderneat'  de  stars  beside  my  camp- 
fire,  an'  talk  wit'  'im  in  my  bark  canoe,  dan  go  livin' 
wit'  you  in  fine  house  an'  let  'im  get  col'  an'  die." 

"But  I  told  him  I'd  marry  you — that  I  had  always 
intended  to.  He'll  believe  I  was  lying,"  she  moaned, 
in  distress. 

"Dat's  too  bad — but  dis  t'ing  ain*  no  doin's  wit* 
me.  Dere's  wan  t'ing  in  dis  worl'  mus'  live  forever* 

181 


THE    BARRIER 

an'  dat's  love — if  we  kill  'im  den  it's  purty  poor  place 
for  stoppin'  in.  I'm  cut  off  my  han'  for  help  you, 
Necia,  but  I  can't  be  husban'  to  no  woman  in  fun." 

"Your  foolish  head  is  full  of  romance,"  she  burst 
out.  "You  think  you're  doing  me  a  favor,  but  you're 
not.  Why,  there's  Runnion — he  wants  me  so  much 
that  he'd  'even  marry  me'!"  Her  wild  laughter  stab 
bed  the  man.  "Was  ever  a  girl  in  such  a  fix!  I've 
been  made  love  to  ever  since  I  was  half  a  woman,  but 
at  thought  of  a  priest  men  seem  to  turn  pale  and  run 
like  whipped  dogs.  I'm  only  good  enough  for  a  bad 
man  and  a  gambler,  I  suppose."  She  sank  to  a  seat, 
flung  out  her  arms  hopelessly,  and,  bowing  her  head, 
began  to  weep  uncontrollably.  "If — if — I  only  had  a 
woman  to  talk  to — but  they  are  all  men — ail  men." 

Poleon  waited  patiently  until  her  paroxysm  of  sob 
bing  had  passed,  then  gently  raised  her  and  led  her 
out  through  the  back  door  into  the  summer  day,  which 
an  hour  ago  had  been  so  bright  and  promising  and  was 
now  so  gray  and  dismal.  He  followed  her  with  his 
eyes  until  she  disappeared  inside  the  log-house. 

"An'  dat's  de  end  of  it  all,"  he  mused.  "Five  year 
I've  wait — an'  jus'  for  dis." 

Meade  Burrell  never  knew  how  he  gained  his  quar 
ters,  but  when  he  had  done  so  he  locked  his  door  be 
hind  him,  then  loosed  his  hold  on  things  material. 
He  raged  about  the  room  like  a  wild  animal,  and  vented 
his  spite  on  every  inanimate  thing  that  lay  within 
reach.  His  voice  was  strange  in  his  own  ears,  as  was 
the  destructive  frenzy  that  possessed  him.  In  time 
he  grew  quieter,  as  the  physical  energy  of  this  brutal 
impulse  spent  itself;  but  there  came  no  surcease  of  his 
mental  disquiet.  As  yet  his  mind  grasped  but  dully 
the  fact  that  she  was  to  marry  another,  but  gradually 

182 


A    TANGLED    SKEIN 

this  thought  in  turn  took  possession  of  him.  She  would 
be  a  wife  in  two  days.  That  great,  roistering,  brown 
man  would  fold  her  to  himself — she  would  yield  to  him 
every  inch  of  her  palpitant,  passionate  body.  The 
thought  drove  the  lover  frantic,  and  he  felt  that  mad 
ness  lay  that  way  if  he  dwelt  on  such  fancies  for  long. 
Of  a  sudden  he  realized  all  that  she  meant  to  him,  and 
cursed  himself  anew.  While  he  had  the  power  to  pos 
sess  her  he  had  dallied  and  hesitated,  but  now  that  he 
had  no  voice  in  it,  now  that  she  was  irretrievably  be 
yond  his  reach,  he  vowed  to  snatch  her  and  hold  her 
against  the  world. 

As  he  grew  calmer  his  reason  began  to  dissect  the 
scene  that  had  taken  place  in  the  store,  and  he  won 
dered  whether  she  had  been  lying  to  him,  after  all. 
No  doubt  she  had  been  engaged  to  the  Frenchman, 
and  had  always  planned  to  wed  Poleon,  for  that  was 
not  out  of  reason;  she  might  even  have  set  out  mis 
chievously  to  amuse  herself  with  him,  but  at  the 
recollection  of  those  rapturous  hours  they  had  spent 
together,  he  declared  aloud  that  she  had  loved  him, 
and  him  only.  Every  instinct  in  him  shouted  that  she 
loved  him,  in  spite  of  her  cruel  protestations. 

All  that  afternoon  he  stayed  locked  in  his  room, 
.and  during  those  solitary  hours  he  came  to  know  his 
own  soul.  He  saw  what  life  meant:  what  part  love 
plays  in  it,  how  dwarfed  and  withered  all  things  are 
when  pitted  against  it. 

A  man  came  with  his  supper,  but  he  called  to  him 
to  be  gone.  The  night  settled  slowly,  and  with  the 
darkness  came  such  a  feeling  of  despair  and  lonesome- 
ness  that  Burrell  lighted  every  lamp  and  candle  in 
the  place  to  dispel,  in  some  measure,  the  gloom  that 
had  fallen  upon  him.  There  are  those  who  believa 
u  183 


THE    BARRIER 

that  in  passing  from  daylight  to  darkness  a  subtle 
transition  occurs  akin  to  the  change  from  positive  to 
negative  in  an  electrical  current,  and  that  this  in 
tangible,  untraceable  atmospheric  influence  exerts  a 
definite,  psychical  effect  upon  men  and  their  modes 
of  thought.  Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  certain  that  as 
the  night  grew  darker  the  Lieutenant's  mood  changed. 
He  lost  his  fierce  anger  at  the  girl,  and  reasoned 
that  he  owed  it  to  her  to  set  himself  right  in  her 
eyes;  that  in  all  justice  to  her  he  ought  to  prove 
his  own  sincerity,  and  assure  her  that  whatever  her 
own  state  of  mind  had  been,  she  wronged  him  when 
she  said  he  had  made  sport  of  her  for  his  own  pleas 
ure.  She  might  then  dismiss  him  and  proceed  with  her 
marriage,  but  first  she  must  know  this  much  of  the 
truth  at  least.  So  he  argued,  insensible  to  the  sophis 
try  of  his  reasoning,  which  was  in  reality  impelled  by 
the  hunger  to  see  her  and  hear  her  voice  again*,  He 
snatched  his  hat  and  bolted  out,  almost  running  in  his 
eagerness. 

An  up-river  steamboat  was  just  landing  as  he  neared 
the  trading-post — a  freighter,  as  he  noted  by  her  lights. 
In  the  glare  at  the  river-bank  he  saw  Poleon  and  the 
trader,  who  had  evidently  returned  from  Lee's  Creek, 
and  without  accosting  them  he  hurried  on  to  the  store. 
Peering  in  from  the  darkness,  he  saw  Alluna  no  doubt 
Necia  was  alone  in  the  house  behind.  So  he  stumbled 
around  to  the  back  to  find  the  window  of  her  room 
aglow  behind  its  curtain,  and*  receiving  no  answer  to 
his  knock,  he  entered,  for  it  was  customary  at  Gale's 
to  waive  ceremony0  Inside  the  big  room  he  pauseda 
then  stepped  swiftly  across  and  rapped  at  her  door 
falling  back  a  pace  as  she  came  out. 

Instead  of  speaking  at  once,  as  he  had  pHanned,  m 


A    TANGLED   SKEIN 

prevent  her  escaping,  he  was  struck  speechless,  lor  tht 
vision  that  met  his  eyes  was  that  which  he  had  seeu 
one  blithe  spnng  morning  three  months  before;  but 
to-night  there  was  no  shawl  to  conceal  her  sweetly 
rounded  neck  and  shoulders,  whose  whiteness  was 
startling  against  the  black  of  the  ball-room  gown.  The 
slim  gold  chain  hung  around  her  neck  and  her  hair 
was  piled  high,  as  before  He  noted  every  smallest 
detail  as  she  stood  there  waiting  for  him  to  speak, 
forgetful  of  everything  else. 

She  had  put  on  the  gown  again  to  see  if.  perchance, 
Acre  might  be  some  mark  of  her  blood  or  breed  that 
had  escaped  her  previous  scrutinyt  and,  as  there  was 
no  one  to  observe  her.,  she  had  attired  herself  slowly, 
absorbed  in  her  whimsy  Her  wistful  beauty  dazed 
the  young  man  and  robbed  him  of  the  words  he  had 
rehearsed  but  as  she  made  to  flee  from  him,  with  a 
pitiful  gesture,  towards  her  room,  the  fear  of  losing  her 
aroused  him  and  spurred  his  wit 

''Don't  go  away!  I  have  something  I  must  tell  you, 
I've  thought  it  over,  and  you've  got  to  listen,  Necia." 

"1  am  listening./"  she  answered,  very  quietly, 

"Understand  me;  Tm  not  whining,  and  I'm  willing 
to  take  my  medicine.  1  couldn't  talk  or  think  very 
straight  this  afternoon,  but  you  were  wrong.'1 

**Yes  I  know  nowt  I  was  wrong,  It  was  most  un- 
lady  like  wasn't  it?  But  you  see,  I  am  only  a  little 
savage 

"1  don  t  mean  that;  I  mean  you  were  wrong  when 
you  said  I  had  played  with  you.  In  the  sight  of  God, 
I  sweat  you  were  mistaken.  You  have  made  me  love 
,  Necia  Can't  you  see?" 

ohe  made  no  sign. 

?tlf  you  can't,  1  owe  it  to  you  and  to  myself  to  aet 


THE   BARRIER 

you  righto    I  am  not  ashamed  to  acknowledge  am 

Sovcj  and  even  when  you  are  married  to  Poieon  I  w»ot 
you  to  know  that  I  shall  love  you  always," 

Even  yet  she  made  no  sign.  Was  he  not  merely 
repeating  the  same  empty  words  with  which  he  had 
so  often  beguiled  her?  There  was  no  word  of  mar 
riage;  he  still  considered  her  unworthy,  beneath  him. 
The  pain  of  it  caused  the  girl  to  wince  suddenly,  and 
her  sensitive  face  flinched,  seeing  which  he  broke 
out: 

"You  do  love  ms,  Necia — you  do;  I  see  it  in  your 
eyes!"  And  he  started  towards  her  with  open  arms,  but 
she  shrank  away  from  him. 

"No,  no!     Don't  touch  me!"  she  almost  screamed. 

"My  dear  one,"  he  breathed,  "you  must  listen  to 
me.  You  have  nothing  to  fear,  for  I  love  you — love 
you — love  you!  You  were  made  for  met  Youll  be 
my  wife.  Yes;  you'll  be  married  on  SundayB  but  to 
me^  not  to  Poieon  or  any  other  man!" 

Did  she  hear  aright?  Was  he,  her  soldier  lover, 
asking  her,  the  Indian  girl — ? 

"You  do  love  me,  don't  you?"  he  pleaded,  But  still 
she  could  not  speak,  and  he  tried  to  read  the  answer 
in  her  swimming  eyes. 

"You  mean — you  want  to — marry  me?"  she  mur 
mured,  at  last,  hesitating  shyly  at  the  word  that  had 
come  to  play  so  momentous  a  part  in  her  little  world. 

"Indeed  I  do!"  he  declared,  with  emphasis.  "In 
spite  of  everything,  anything,  Nothing  else  matters." 

"Nothing?" 

<f Nothing!  Ill  quit  the  army.  Ill  give  up  the 
Service,  and  my  people,  too.  Ill  put  everything  back 
of  me,  and  well  start  out  anew — just  you  and  I." 

*"Wait  a  moment,"  she  said,  retreating  a  little  from 
186 


A    TANGLED    SKEIN 

his  eager,  out-stretched  arms.     "Why  do  you  need  to 
io  all  that  ?" 

"Never  mind  why;  it's  as  good  as  done.  You 
wouldn't  understand — " 

"But  I  think  I  do  understand  now,  Do  I  really 
mean  all  that  to  you?" 

"Yes,  and  more!" 

"Listen  to  me,"  said  the  girl,  quietly.  "I  want  you 
to  talk  slowly  so  I  may  not  misunderstand.  If  you — 
marry  me,  must  you  forego  all  those  great  things  you 
speak  of — your  profession,  your  family,  your  future?" 

"Don't  let's  talk  about  it,  Necia;  I've  got  you,  and — " 

"Please  answer  me,"  she  urged,  "I  thought  I  un 
derstood,  but  I'm  afraid  I  don't.  I  thought  it  was 
my  being  a  breed  that  stood  in  the  way — " 

"There's  nothing  in  the  way — " 

" — that  I  wasn't  good  enough.  I  knew  I  could  over- 
^ome  that;  I  knew  I  could  make  myself  grow  to  your 
level,  but  I  didn't  think  my  blood  would  fetter  you 
and  make  this  difference.  I  suppose  I  am  putting  it 
awkwardly,  because  I'm  not  sure  that  I  quite  under 
stand  it  myself  yet.  Things  seem  different  now,  some 
how,  than  they  did  before  " 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  the  soldier,  "If  they  don't 
bother  me,  Necia,  why  should  you  worry?" 

"Would  you  really  have  to  give  up  your  family — 
your  sister?  Would  those  people  you  are  so  proud 
of  and  who  are  so  proud  of  you — would  they  cut  you 
off?" 

"There  is  no  question  of  cutting  off,  I  have  no  in 
heritance  coming;  I  don't  want  any.  I  don't  want 
anything  except  you,  dear  " 

"Won't  you  tell  me?"  she  persisted.  "You  see,  I 
wn  dull  at  these  thingSo" 

187 


THE    BARRIER 

"Well,  what  if  they  do?"  he  conceded  "You  more 
than  make  it  up  to  me  —  you  outweigh  a  thousand 
families." 

"And  would  your  marriage  to  a — a — to  me  destroy 
your  army  career?" 

"Well,  it  will  really  be  much  easier  for  both  of  us  if 
I  resign  from  the  Service,"  he  finally  admitted.  "In 
fact,  I've  decided  to  do  so  at  once." 

"No,  no!  You  mustn't  do  that.  To-night  you 
think  I  am  worth  the  price,  but  a  day  will  come — •" 

He  leaned  forward  and  caught  her  hands  in  his. 

" — Meade,  I  can't  let  you  do  it." 

"I'd  like  to  see  you  help  yourself,"  he  said,  banter- 
ingly. 

"I  can  and  I  will.  You  must  not  marry  me,  Meade 
— it's  not  right — it  can't  be."  She  suddenly  realized 
what  this  renunciation  would  mean,  and  began  1#- 
shiver.  To  think  of  losing  him  now,  after  he  had  come 
to  her  freely — it  would  be  very  hard!  But  to  her,  too, 
there  had  come  the  revelation  that  love  means  sac 
rifice,  and  she  knew  now  that  she  loved  her  soldier  too 
well  to  let  her  shadow  darken  his  bright  future,  too 
well  to  ruin  him. 

"It  will  be  over  before  you  know  it,"  she  heard  him 
saying,  in  a  lame  attempt  at  levity.  "Father  Barnum 
is  an  expert,  and  the  operation  won't  occupy  him  ten 
minutes." 

"Meade,  you  must  listen  to  me  now,"  she  said,  so 
earnestly  that  it  sobered  him.  "Do  you  think  a  girl 
could  be  happy  if  she  knew  a  good  man  had  spoiled 
his  life  for  her  ?  I  would  rather  die  now  than  let  you 
do  such  a  thing.  I  couldn't  bear  to  see  myself  a  drag 
on  you.  Oh,  I  know  it  would  be  wonderful,  this  happi 
ness  of  ours,  for  a  time,  and  then — "  She  was  finding 

188 


A    TANGLED    SKEIN 

it  more  and  more  difficult  to  continue.  "A  prisonef 
grows  to  hate  the  chains  that  bind  him;  when  that  day 
came  for  you,  I  should  hate  myself.  No,  no!  Believe 
me,  it  can't  be.  You're  not  of  my  people,  and  I'm  not 
of  yours." 

At  that  moment  they  heard  the  voices  of  the  trader 
and  his  squaw  outside,  approaching  the  hoase.  The 
girl's  breath  caught  in  her  throat,  she  flung  herself 
recklessly  upon  her  lover's  breast  and  threw  her  arms 
around  his  neck  in  an  agony  of  farewell. 

"Meade!  Meade!  my  soldier!"  she  sobbed,  "kiss  me 
good-bye  for  the  last  time!" 

"No,"  he  said, roughly. 

But  she  dragged  his  face  down  to  her  burning  lips. 

"Now  you  must  go,"  she  said,  tearing  herself  away, 
"and,  for  my  sake,  don't  see  me  again." 

"I  will!  I  will!  I'll  ask  your  father  for  you  to 
night." 

"No,  no!  Donf  please  don't!  Wait  till— till  to 
morrow — till  I  say  the  word!  Promise  me!  On  your 
love,  promise  1" 

Her  eyes  held  such  a  painful  entreaty  that  he  nodded 
acquiescence  as  the  door  opened  and  her  father  and 
Alluna  entered. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

I^HE  old  man  greeted  the  Lieutenant  affably,  but 
as   his   glance   fell   on    his    daughter  he   stopped 
stock-still  on  the  threshold. 

"I  told  you  never  to  wear  that  dress  again,"  he  said, 
in  a  dry,  harsh  voice. 

The  girl  made  no  answer,  for  her  heart  was  breaking, 
but  turned  and  went  into  her  room.  Burrell  had  an 
irresistible  desire  to  tell  Gale  that  he  wanted  his 
daughter  for  his  wife;  it  would  be  an  unwonted  pleas 
ure  to  startle  this  iron-gray  old  man  and  the  shawled 
and  shambling  mummy  of  red,  with  the  unwinking  eyes 
that  always  reminded  him  of  two  ox-heart  cherries; 
but  he  had  given  Necia  his  promise.  So  he  descended 
to  the  exchange  of  ordinary  topics,  and  inquired  for 
news  of  the  creek. 

"Necia's  ground  is  getting  better  every  hour,"  the 
trader  said.  "Yesterday  they  found  a  sixty -dollar 
pan." 

"Have  you  struck  pay  on  yours?" 

"No;  Poleon  and  I  seem  to  hold  bad  hands.  Some 
of  his  laymen  are  quitting  work.  They've  cross-cut 
in  half  a  dozen  places  and  can't  find  a  color." 

"But  surely  they  haven't  fully  prospected  his  claims 
yet;  there  must  be  plenty  of  room  for  a  pay-streak 
somewhere,  mustn't  there?" 

190 


^  .2 

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w  ^c 


H 


STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

"It  looks  like  he  had  drawn  three  blanks,"  said  Gale, 
"although  we  can't  tell  for  sure.  They're  breaking  most 
as  bad  for  me,  too;  but  I've  got  a  new  hunch,  and 
I'm  running  up  a  dreen  to  catch  bed-rock  along  the 
left  rim.  I've  got  twenty  men  at  work,  and  I'll  know 
before  long.  You  heard  about  Runnion,  of  course  ?" 

"Yes;  the  usual  story — the  bad  men  get  the  good 
mines,  and  the  good  ones  get  the  hungry  spots.  Well, 
I  might  have  been  one  of  the  unfortunates  if  I  had 
staked  for  myself;  but  I  hardly  think  so,  I'm  pretty 
lucky.1'  lie  laughingly  bade  them  good-night,  con 
tent  with  himself  and  at  peace  with  the  world. 

Gale  went  to  Necia's  door  and  called  her,  but  when 
she  appeared  he  was  unprepared  for  the  tragic  face 
with  which  she  greeted  him. 

"Daughter,"  he  said,  "'on't  feel  bad  over  what  I 
said;  I  didn't  mean  to  be  cruoS  with  you,  but — I  don't 
like  that  dress." 

"Were  you  cross  with  me,  daddy?"  she  said,  dully. 
"I  didn't  hear.  What  did  you  say?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  "Necia,  little  girl, 
what  is  the  trouble?" 

She  was  staring  past  him,  and  her  fingers  were 
fumbling  helplessly  with  the  lace  of  her  gown,  but  she 
began  to  show  signs  of  collapse. 

"I  sent  him  away — I — gave  him  up,  when  he  wanted 
me  —  wanted  me —  Oh,  daddy!  he  wants  to  marry 
me — and  I  sent  him  away." 

Alluna  uttered  a  short,  satisfied  exclamation,  and, 
Jooking  at  Gale  meaningly,  said: 

"It  is  good.     It  is  good.     He  is  a  stranger." 

But  the  man  disregarded  her  interruption. 

"He  asked  you  to  marry  him  in — in — in  spite  of 
who  you  are  and  what  I  am  ?" 

191 


THE    BARRIER 

"Yes*  he  is  ready  to  give  up  his  ambition,  his  army, 
his  future,  his  family,  everything,  for  me — to  sacrifice 
it  all;  and  so,  of  course,  I  couldn't  let  him.  She  spoke 
simply,  as  if  her  father  would  surely  understand  and 
approve  her  action,  while  in  her  voice  was  a  note  o£ 
inevitable  resignation.  "You  see,  I  never  understood 
what  my  blood  would  mean  to  him  until  to-night.  I've 
been  selfish  and  thoughtless,  I  guess.  I  just  wanted 
him,  and  wanted  him  to  take  me;  but  now  that  he  is 
mine,  I  love  him  more  than  I  thought.  He  is  so  dear 
to  me  that  I  can't  drag  him  down — I  can't — I  can't!" 
She  went  to  the  open  door  and  stood  leaning  against 
the  casing,  facing  the  cool  outer  darkness,  her  face  hid 
den  from  them,  her  form  sagging  wearily,  as  if  the 
struggle  had  sapped  her  whole  strength. 

Alluna  crept  to  the  trader  and  looked  up  at  him 
eagerly,  whispering: 

"This  will  end  in  a  little  while,  John.  She  is  young. 
She  can  go  back  to  the  Mission  to-morrow.  She  will 
soon  forget.'* 

"Forget!     Do  you  think  she  can  forget?" 

"Any  woman  can  forget.     Only  men  remember." 

"It  is  the  red  blood  in  you — lying.  You  know  you 
He." 

"It  is  to  save  your  life,"  she  said. 

"I  know;  but  it's  no  use."  To  Necia  he  said:  "You 
needn't  worry,  little  daughter."  But  her  ears  were  deaf. 
"You  needn't  give  him  up,  I  say — this  will  end  all 
right." 

Seeing  that  she  gave  no  sign  of  heeding,  he  stepped 
closer,  and  swung  her  about  till  she  faced  him. 

"Can't  you  trust  me  this  one  time?  You  always 
have  before,  Necia.  I  say  he'll  marry  you,  and  it  witf 
all  come  out  right." 

192 


STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

She  raised  her  hopeless  eyes  and  strove  gamely  to 
meet  his,  then,  failing,  broke  away,  and  turned  back 
to  the  door.  "I  knew  you  couldn't  understand.  I — 
I — oh,  God,  I  love  him  so!"  With  a  cry  like  that  of 
a  wounded  animal  she  fled  out  into  the  night,  where 
she  could  give  vent  to  her  anguish  unseen;  for  she  had 
never  wept  before  her  father,  but  always  crept  away 
and  hid  herself  until  her  grief  was  spent.  Gale  would 
have  started  after  her,  but  Allure  dragged  him  back 
fiercely. 

4 'No,  no!  It  means  your  life,  John.  Let  the  secret 
die,  and  she  will  forget.  She  is  so  young.  Time  will 
cure  her — time  cures  everything.  Don't  tell  her — 
don't  tell  any  one — and,  above  all,  don't  tell  that  sol 
dier!  He  would  not  believe,  nor  would  she.  Even 
I  have  doubtedl" 

"You?" 

"Yes,  John.  And  if  /  don't  believe,  what  is  a 
stranger  to  say  ?  No  man  knowing  you  would  believe 
the  tale — without  proof.  Suppose  she  doubted — have 
you  ever  thought  of  that  ?  Would  you  not  rather  have 
her  die  still  loving  you  than  live  and  disbelieve?" 

"Yes,  yes!  Of  course,  I— I've  thought  of  that,  but — 
Woman,  you're  worse  than  a  rattlesnake!" 

"Even  if  he  knew,  he  might  not  marry  her.  You  at 
least  are  clean,  and  that  other  man  was  a  devil.  A 
brave  man's  life  is  too  great  a  price  to  pay  for  a  grief 
that  will  die  in  a  year."  Alluna  was  speaking  swiftly 
in  her  own  language,  her  body  tense,  her  face  ablaze, 
and  no  man  seeing  her  could  ever  again  have  called 
her  people  stolid. 

"You  think  time  will  cure  a  love  like  that?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  yes!" 

"'That's  all  you  know  about  it.     Time  may  act  that 


THE    BARRIER 

way  perhaps  in  cities  and  such  places,  but  out  in  the 
hills  it  is  different.  When  you've  got  the  breath  of  the 
forest  in  you,  I  say  it  is  different.  Time — why,  I've 
lived  fifteen  years  in  the  open  with  a  living  memory. 
Every  night  I've  dreamed  it  over,  every  day  I've  lived 
it  through;  in  every  camp-fire  I  see  a  face,  and  every 
wind  from  the  south  brings  a  voice  to  me.  Every 
stormy  night  a  girl  with  eyes  like  Necia's  calls  to  me, 
and  I  have  to  follow  Every  patch  of  moonlight  shows 
her  smiling  at  me,  iast  beyond,  just  in  the  shadow's 
edge.  Love!  Time!  Why,  Alluna,  love  is  the  only 
thing  in  the  world  that  never  dies,  and  time  only  makes 
it  the  more  enduring." 

He  took  up  the  white  slouch  hat  he  had  thrown  down 
when  he  came  in,  and  stepped  to  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  inquired  the  squaw,  fear 
fully. 

"To  the  barracks  to  give  myself  up!" 

She  flung  herself  at  him  with  a  great  cry,  and  seized 
him  about  the  waist. 

"You  never  loved  me,  John,  but  I  have  been  a  good 
woman  to  you,  although  I  knew  you  were  always  think 
ing  of  her — and  had  no  thought  of  me.  I  have  loved 
this  girl  because  you  loved  her.  I  have  hated  your 
enemies  because  you  hated  them,  and  now  I  remember 
while  you  forget." 

' '  Forget !     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Stark!" 

The  man  paused.  "I  did  almost  forget  him — and 
after  fifteen  years!" 

"Let  us  kill  him  to-night;  then  we  will  go  to  the 
soldier  together,  side  by  side — I  am  your  woman.  Necia 
Will  look  after  the  little  ones. 

Gale  stared  at  her,  and  as  he  gazed  the  red  pigment 
194 


STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

underneath  her  skin,  the  straight  -  hanging,  manelike 
hair,  the  gaudy  shawl  she  never  went  without,  the  shape 
less,  skin-shod  feet,  the  slovenly,  ill-fitting  garb  of  a 
mis-cast  woman  vanished,  and  he  saw  her  as  she  was 
on  a  day  long  past,  a  slim,  shy,  silent  creature,  with 
great,  watchful,  trusting  eyes  and  a  soul  unspoiled. 
No  woman  had  ever  been  so  loyal,  so  uncomplaining. 
He  had  robbed  her  of  her  people  and  her  gods.  He 
had  shifted  hither  and  yon  at  the  call  of  his  uncertain 
fortune,  or  at  a  sign  of  that  lurking  fear  that  always 
dogged  him,  and  she  had  never  left  his  side,  never 
questioned,  never  doubted,  but  always  served  him  like 
a  slave,  without  asking  for  a  part  in  that  Other  love, 
without  sharing  in  the  caresses  he  had  consecrated  to 
a  woman  she  had  never  seen. 

"By  Heaven!  You're  game,  Alluna,  but  there's  a 
limit  even  to  what  I  can  take  from  you,"  he  said,  at  last. 
"I  don't  ever  seem  to  have  noticed  it  before,  but  there 
is.  No!  I've  got  to  do  this  thing  alone  to-night,  all 
of  it,  for  you  have  no  place  in  it,  and  I  can't  let  the 
little  girl  go  on  like  this.  The  sooner  that  soldier 
knows  the  better."  He  leaned  down  and  touched  her 
brown  mouth  with  his  grizzled  lips.  "Thank  you, 
Alluna,  for  making  a  man  of  me  when  I'd  nearly  for 
gotten.  Now  you  stay  here."  He  knew  he  could 
count  on  her  obedience,  and  so  he  left  her.  When  he 
had  gone  she  drew  the  shawl  up  over  her  face  and 
crouched  in  the  doorway,  .straining  her  eyes  after  him 
through  the  dark.  In  time  she  began  to  rock  and  sway, 
and  then  to  chant,  until  the  night  moaned  with  the 
death-song  of  her  people. 

Necia  had  no  idea  whither  she  went ;  her  only  thought 
was  to  flee  from  her  kin,  who  could  not  understand, 
to  hide  under  cover  in  some  solitary  place,  to  let  the 


THE    BARRIER 

darkness  swallow  her  up,  so  that  she  might  give  way  to 
her  grief  and  be  just  a  poor,  weak  woman.  So,  with 
a  dull  and  aching  heart,  she  wandered,  bareheaded, 
bare-necked,  half -demented,  and  wholly  oblivious  to 
her  surroundings,  without  sense  of  her  incongruous 
attire  or  of  the  water  that  squeezed  up  through  the 
soggy  moss  at  her  tread  and  soaked  her  frail  slippers. 
On  she  stumbled  blindly  through  the  murk  like  some 
fair  creature  of  light  cast  out  and  banished. 

The  night  was  cloudy  and  a  wind  came  sighing  from 
the  north,  tossing  the  girl's  hair  and  tugging  at  the  care 
less  folds  of  her  dress,  but  she  heard  nothing  save  the 
devil's  tattoo  that  rang  in  her  head,  and  felt  nothing 
beyond  the  pain  at  throat  and  breast,  which  in  time 
became  so  bitter  that  the  tears  were  wrung  from  her 
dry  eyes,  and  she  began  to  weep  in  a  pitiful  woman 
fashion,  as  if  her  heart  would  bursto  The  first  drops 
cleared  a  way  for  others,  and  soon  she  was  sobbing 
freely,  alone  and  without  solace,  lost  in  the  nighto 

She  had  not  succeeded  in  thoroughly  isolating  her 
self,  however,  for  a  man  who  was  steering  his  course 
by  the  sense  of  feel  and  the  wind's  direction  heard 
her  and  paused.  His  steps  were  muffled  in  the  soft 
footing,  so  that  she  had  no  warning  of  his  presence 
until  he  was  near  enough  to  distinguish  her  dimly 
where-she  leaned  against  the  log  wall  of  a  half-com 
pleted  cabin, 

To  his  question,  "What's  the  trouble  here?"  she 
made  no  answer,  but  moved  away,  whereupon  he  de 
tained  her.  "There's  something  wrong.  Who  are 
you,  anyhow?" 

"It's  only  Necia,  Mr.  Stark,"  said  the  girl,  at  which 
fee  advanced  and  took  her  by  the  arm. 

"What  ails  you,  child?  What  in  the  world  are  yota 
196 


STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

doing  here?  Come!  It's  only  a  step  to  my  cabin; 
you  must  come  in  and  rest  awhile,  and  you'll  soon 
be  all  right.  Why,  you'll  break  your  neck  in  this 
darkness." 

She  hung  back,  but  he  compelled  her  to  go  with  him 
in  spite  of  her  unwillingness. 

"Now,  now,"  he  admonished,  with  unusual  kindli 
ness  for  him;  "you  know  you're  my  little  friend,  and 
I  can't  let  you  go  on  this  way;  it's  scandalous.  I  won't 
stand  for  it.  I  like  you  too  much." 

In  truth  he  had  done  things  during  these  last  few 
weeks  to  make  her  think  so,  having  never  missed  an 
opportunity  to  stop  and  pass  a  word  with  her,  at  the 
same  time  showing  her  a  queer  courtesy  and  considera 
tion  quite  foreign  to  his  saturnine  habits.  She  had 
never  mentioned  the  fact  to  her  father  or  the  others, 
for  she  had  developed  a  sort  of  sympathy  for  the  man, 
and  felt  that  she  understood  him  better  than  they  did. 

He  led  her  inside  his  cabin,  and  closed  the  door  in 
the  face  of  the  night  wind  before  he  struck  a  light. 

"I  can't  stand  to  see  you  cry,"  he  repeated,  as  he 
adjusted  the  wick.  "Now,  as  soon  as — "  He  stop 
ped  in  astonishment,  for  he  had  turned  to  behold,  in 
stead  of  the  little  half-breed  girl,  this  slender,  sorrow 
ful  stranger  in  her  amazingly  wonderful  raiment. 

"By — "  He  checked  himself  insensibly,  and  stood 
motionless  for  a  long  time,  while  she  wiped  her  eyes  and, 
woman-like,  straightened  out  her  gown  and  smoothed 
her  hair  with  little  feminine  touches. 

"I — I — hope  you'll  excuse  me  for  acting  this  way," 
ahe  smiled  at  him,  piteously ;  then,  observing  his  strange 
features,  "Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Stark;  are  you 
angry?" 

His  hawklike  face  was  strained  and  colorless,  his 
197 


THE    BARRIER 

black  eyes  fierce  and  eager,  his  body  bent  as  if  to  pounce 
upon  a  victim.  In  truth  he  was  now  the  predatory 
animal. 

"No/8  he  replied,  as  if  her  question  carried  no  mean- 
Ing;  then,  coming  to  himself,  "No — no!  of  course  not, 
but — you  gave  me  a  start.  You  reminded  me  of  some 
one.  How  do  you  come  to  be  dressed  like  that?  I 
never  knew  you  had  such  clothes?" 

"Poleon  brought  them  from  Dawson;  they  are  the 
first  I  ever  had." 

He  shook  his  head  in  a  slow,  puzzled  fashion. 

"You  look  just  like  a  white  girl — I  mean — I  don't 
know  what  I  mean."  This  time  he  roused  himself 
fully,  the  effort  being  more  like  a  shudder. 

"So  I  have  always  thought,"  she  said,  and  her  eyes 
filled  again. 

"Your  skin  is  like  milk  beneath  your  tan,  and — I 
don't  mean  any  disrespect,  but —  Well,  I'm  just  so 
damned  surprised !  Come  over  here  and  sit  down  while 
I  mix  you  something  to  put  the  heart  back  into  you." 

He  shoved  forward  a  big  chair  with  a  wolf -skin  flung 
over  it,  into  which  she  sank  dejectedly,  while  he  step 
ped  to  the  shelves  beside  the  Yukon  stove  and  took 
down  a  bottle  and  some  glasses.  She  glanced  about 
with  faint  curiosity,  but  the  interior  of  the  cabin  show 
ed  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary,  consisting  as  it  did  of 
one  room  with  a  cot  in  the  corner,  upon  which  were 
tumbled  blankets,  and  above  which  was  a  row  of  pegs. 
Opposite  was  a  sheet-iron  box-stove  supported  knee- 
high  on  a  tin-capped  framework  of  wood,  and  in  the 
centre  a  table  with  oil-cloth  coven  Around  the  walls 
were  some  cooking  utensils,  a  few  cases  of  canned 
goods,  and  clothes  hanging  in  a  row. 

"I'm  not  fixed  up  very  well  yet,"  he  apologized; 
198 


STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

"I've  been  too  busy  at  the  saloon  to  waste  time  on 
living  quarters.  But  it's  comfortable  enough  for  an 
old  roadster  like  me,  for  I've  bruised  around  the 
frontier  so  long  that  I've  learned  there's  only  three 
things  necessary  to  a  man's  comfort — warm  clothes,  a 
full  stomach,  and  a  dry  place  to  sleep.  All  the  rest 
that  goes  to  make  a  man  content  he  has  inside  him, 
and  I'm  not  the  kind  to  be  satisfied,  no  matter  where 
I  am  or  what  I  have.  I  never  was  that  kind,  so  I 
just  don't  make  the  attempt." 

He  was  talking  to  give  her  leeway,  and  when  he  had 
concocted  a  weak  toddy,  insisted  that  she  must  drink 
it,  which  she  did  listlessly,  while  he  rambled  on. 

**I've  noticed  a  few  things  in  my  life,  Miss  Necia, 
and  one  of  them  is  that  it  often  does  a  heap  of  good 
to  let  out  and  talk  things  over :  not  that  a  fellow  gains 
any  real  advantage  from  disseminating  his  troubles, 
but  it  serves  to  sort  of  ease  his  mind.  Folks  don't 
often  come  to  me  for  advice  or  sympathy,  I  don't 
have  it  to  give,  but  maybe  it  will  help  you  to  tell  me 
what  caused  this  night-marauding  expedition  of  yours." 
Seeing  that  she  hesitated,  he  went  on:  "I  suppose 
there's  a  lot  ot  reasons  why  you  shouldn't  confide  in 
me — I  don't  like  that  old  man  of  yours,  nor  any  of 
your  friends,  but  maybe  that's  why  I'm  interested. 
If  any  of  them  has  upset  you,  I'll  take  particular  pleas 
ure  in  helping  you  get  even." 

"I  don't  want  to  get  even,  and  there  is  nothing  to 
tell,"  said  Necia,  "except  a  girl's  troubles,  and  I  can't 
talk  about  them."  She  smiled  a  painful,  crooked 
smile  at  him. 

"Your  old  man  has  been  rough  to  you?" 

"No,  no!     Nothing  of  that  sort." 

"Then  it's  that  soldier?"  he  quizzed,  shrewdly.  **I 
14  199 


THE    BARRIER 

knew  you   cared   a   heap  for   him.    Don't   he 
you?" 

"Yes!  That's  the  trouble;  and  he  wants  to  marry 
me;  he  swears  he  will  in  spite  of  everything." 

"See  here!  I  don't  quite  follow.  I  thought  you 
liked  him — he's  the  kind  most  women  go  daffy  over/' 

"Like  him!"  The  girl  trembled  with  emotion. 
"Like  him!  Why — why,  I  would  do  anything  to 
make  him  happy." 

"I  guess  I  must  be  kind  of  dull,"  Stark  said,  per 
plexedly. 

"Don't  you  see?  I've  got  to  give  him  up — I'm  a 
squaw." 

"Squaw  hell!     With  those  shoulders?" 

Stark  checked  himself,  for  he  found  he  was  rejoic 
ing  in  his  -enemy's  defeat,  and  was  in  danger  of  betray 
ing  himself  to  the  girl.  In  every  encounter  the  young 
man  had  bested  him,  and  these  petty  defeats  had 
crystallized  his  antipathy  to  Burrell  into  a  hatred  so 
strong  that  he  had  begun  to  lie  awake  nights  planning 
a  systematic  quarrel.  For  he  was  the  kind  of  man 
who  throve  upon  contentions:  so  warped  in  soul  that 
when  no  man  offered  him  offence  he  brooded  over 
fancied  wrongs  and  conjured  up  a  cause  for  enmity, 
goading  himself  into  that  sour,  sullen  habit  of  mind 
that  made  him  a  dread  and  a  menace  to  all  who  lacked 
his  favor.  His  path  was  strewn  from  the  border  North 
with  the  husks  of  fierce  brawls,  and  he  bore  the  in 
eradicable  mark  of  the  killer,  carrying  always  in  his 
brain  those  scars  that  hate  had  seared.  In  his  eyes 
forever  slumbered  a  flame  waiting  to  be  blown  to  life, 
and  when  embroiled  in  feuds  or  bickerings  a  custom 
had  grown  upon  him  to  fight  these  fights  in  secret 
many  times,  until  of  nights  he  would  lie  in  solitary 

goo 


STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

darkness  writhing  in  spirit  as  he  hounded  his  man  to 
desperation,  or  forced  him  into  a  corner  where  he 
might  slake  his  thirsty  vengeance.  After  such  black, 
sleepless  hours  he  dragged  himself  from  his  battle 
grounds  of  fancy,  worn  and  weary,  and  the  daylight 
discovered  him  more  saturnine  and  moody,  more 
menacing  than  ever. 

He  had  brooded  over  his  quarrel  with  Gale  and  the 
Lieutenant  ever  since  their  first  clash,  for  in  this  place 
they  furnished  the  only  objects  upon  which  his  mania 
could  work — and  it  was  a  mania,  the  derangement  of  a 
diseased t  distorted  mind.  His  regard  for  Necia  was  a 
careless  whim,  a  rather  aimless,  satisfying  hobby,  not 
At  all  serious,  entirely  extraneous  to  his  every-day  life, 
and  interesting  only  from  its  aimlessness,  being  as  near 
to  an  unselfish  and  decent  motive  as  the  man  had  ever 
come.  But  it  was  not  of  sufficient  consequence  to 
stand  out  against  or  swerve  the  course  of  a  quarrel; 
wherefore,  he  was  gladdened  by  the  news  of  Bun-ell's 
discomfiture. 

"So  you  like  him  too  much  to  stand  in  his  way,"  he 
said,  meditatively.  "How  does  your  father  look  at 
it?" 

"He  wants  the  Lieutenant  to  marry  me.  He  says 
he  will  fix  it  up  all  right;  but  he  doesn't  understand. 
How  could  he  ?" 

"You  are  doing  just  right,"  concurred  the  man, 
hypocritically,  "an<?  vou'll  live  to  be  glad  you  stood 
out."  Now  that  both  his  enemies  desired  this  thing, 
he  was  set  on  preventing  it,  regardless  of  the  girl.  "  How 
did  the  Lieutenant  take  it  when  you  refused  him?" 

"He  wouldn't  take  it  at  all.  He  only  laughed  and 
declared  he  would  marry  me,  anyhow."  The  very 
thought  thrilled  her. 

201 


THE    BARRIER 

he  know  you  love  him?" 

The  tender,  sobbing  laugh  she  gave  was  ample  axtr 
swer, 

"Well,  what's  your  plan?" 

"I— I — I  don't  know.  I  am  so  torn  and  twisted 
with  it  all  that  I  can't  plan,  but  I  have  thought  I — • 
ought — to  go — away." 

"Good!"  he  said,  quickly,  but  his  acquiescence,  in 
stead  of  soothing  her,  had  the  contrary  effect,  and  she 
burst  out  impulsively: 

"Oh — I  can't — I  can't!  I  can't  go  away  and  never 
see  him!  I  can't  do  it!  I  want  to  stay  where  he  is!" 
She  had  been  holding  herself  in  stubbornly,  but  at 
last  gave  way  with  reckless  abandon,  "Why  wasn't  I 
born  white  like  other  girls?  I've  never  felt  like  an 
Indian.  I've  always  dreamed  and  fancied  I  was  dif 
ferent,  and  I  am,  in  my  soul — I  know  I  am!  The 
white  is  so  strong  in  me  that  it  has  killed  the  red,  and 
I'm  one  of  father's  people.  I'm  not  like  the  other  two; 
they  are  brown  and  silent,  and  as  cold  as  little  toads; 
but  I'm  white  and  full  of  life,  all  over.  They  never  see 
the  men  and  women  that  I  see  in  my  dreams.  They 
never  have  my  visions  of  the  beautiful  snow-white 
mother,  with  the  tender  mouth  and  the  sad  eyes  that 
always  smile  at  me." 

"You  have  visions  of  such  things,  eh?" 

"Yes,  but  I  came  a  generation  late,  that's  all,  and 
I've  got  that  other  woman's  soul.  I'm  not  a  half- 
breed — I'm  not  me  at  all.  I'm  Merridy — Merridy! 
That's  who  I  am." 

Her  face  was  turned  away  from  him,  so  that  she  did 
not  notice  the  frightful  effect  her  words  had  upon 
Stark. 

"Where  did  you  get — that  name?"  His  voice  was 
202 


STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

pitched  in  a  different  key  now.  Then,  after  a  moment, 
he  added,  "From  the  story  I  told  you  at  the  mine  that 
night,  I  suppose?" 

44 Oh  no,"  she  answered.  "I've  always  had  it, 
though  they  call  me  Necia.  Merridy  was  my  father's 
mother.  I  guess  I'm  like  her  in  many  ways,  for  I  otten 
imagine  she  is  a  part  of  me,  that  her  spirit  is  mine.  It's 
the  only  way  I  can  account  for  the  sights  I  see." 

"Your  father's  mother?"  he  said,  mechanically. 
"That's  queer."  He  seemed  to  be  trying  to  shake 
himself  free  from  something.  "It's  heredity,  I  sup 
pose.  You  have  visions  of  a  white  woman,  a  woman 
named  Merridy,  eh?"  Suddenly  his  manner  changed, 
and  he  spoke  so  roughly  that  she  looked  at  him  in 
vague  alarm. 

"How  do  you  know?  How  do  you  know  she  was 
his  mother?" 

"He  told  me  so—  " 

Stark  snarled.     "He  lied!" 

"I  can  show  you  her  wedding-ring — I've  always 
worn  it."  She  fumbled  for  the  chain  about  her  neck, 
but  it  eluded  her  trembling  fingers.  "It  has  her 
name  in  it — 'From  Dan  to  Merridy."1 

Stark 's  hand  darted  forward  and  tore  the  thing  from 
her  shoulders,  then  he  thrust  it  under  the  lamp  and 
glared  at  the  inscription,  while  his  fingers  shook  so 
that  he  could  barely  distinguish  the  words.  His  eyes 
were  blazing  and  his  face  livid. 

Necia  cried  out,  out  he  dropped  the  ornament  and 
seized  her  fiercely,  lifting  her  from  the  chair  to  her  feet; 
then,  with  one  swift,  downward  clutch,  he  laid  hold  of 
her  dress  at  the  left  shoulder  and  ripped  it  half  to  her 
waist.  A  hoarse  sound  came  from  his  throat,  a  cry 
half  of  amazement,  half  of  triumph. 

207 


THE    BARRIER 

"Let  me  go!  Let  me  go!"  She  struggled  to  free 
herself,  but  he  held  her  in  a  viselike  grip,  while  he 
peered  closely  a,t  a  blemish  well  down  upon  her  back. 
Then  he  let  her  slip  from  his  grasp,  and.  seized  with  ter 
ror,  she  staggered  away  from  him.  He  was  leaning 
heavily  with  both  hands  upon  the  table,  his  face  work 
ing,  his  head  drawn  down  between  his  shoulders,  his 
thin  lips  grinning,  his  whole  manner  so  terrifying  that 
she  shrank  back  till  she  brought  up  against  the  bark 
walls.  She  turned  and  made  for  the  door,  whereupon 
he  straightened  up  and  said,  in  a  queer,  commanding 
voice : 

" Wait  —  don't  go!  I  —  I—  you—  "  He  licked  his 
lips  as  if  they  were  dust  dry,  passed  an  uncertain  hand 
across  his  beaded  brow,  and,  raising  the  water-pail 
beside  the  door  to  his  mouth,  drank  heavily  in  great, 
noisy  gulps. 

' '  Let  me  out  of  here !"  the  girl  demanded,  imperiously. 

"  Don't  be  scared,"  he  said,  more  quietly  now.  "  You 
must  excuse  me.  You — you  gave  me  an  awful  fright. 
Yes — that  was  it.  Don't  worry.  I  didn't  mean  any 
harm." 

"You  hurt  my  shoulder,"  she  said,  almost  ready  to 
cry.  "And  you  tore  my  dress,"  she  added,  angrily — 
"my  fine  dress.  Are  you  crazy?" 

"You  see,  it's  like  this,  that  name  of  Merridy  and 
that  ring — well,  the  whole  thing  was  so  startling,  I — • 
I  went  off  my  head.  It  came  suaden,  and  I  thought — 
I  thought — it  don't  matter  what  '  thought,  but  I'm 
sorry.  I'll  apologize — and  I'll  get  you  a  new  dress, 
a  whole  lot  of  dresses,  if  you  like."  This  seemed  to 
amuse  him,  and  he  began  to  laugh  silently. 

His  first  impulse  had  been  to  tell  her  everything, 
but  his  amazement  had  rendered  him  speechless,  and 

204 


STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

now  he  was  thankful  for  it.  Following  his  discovery 
of  her  identity,  he  had  been  stricken  dumb,  staring  at 
her  like  one  demented;  then,  as  he  was  about  to  ex 
plain,  his  mind  suddenly  grasped  the  significance  of 
this  revelation  and  the  advantage  it  gave  him  over 
his  enemies;  a  plan  began  to  unfold,  vague  at  first, 
its  details  not  worked  out,  but  a  plan  whereby  he  could 
by  keeping  silent  use  this  knowledge  to  serve  his  venge 
ful  ends.  In  an  instant  his  vision  cleared  and  his 
brain  became  active  and  alert,  like  that  of  a  man 
brought  suddenly  under  the  stimulus  of  strong  liquor. 
Care  must  be  exercised — she  must  not  learn  too  much 
— for  if  she  suspected  the  truth  she  would  go  to  her 
soldier  lover  at  once,  and  no  power  on  earth  could  hold 
her  back.  That  would  block  the  vengeance  that  he 
saw  shaping  in  the  dank  recesses  of  his  distorted  brain. 

First,  and  above  all,  he  must  get  the  girl  away  from 
Flambeau. 

"I  went  clear  off  my  head,"  he  heard  himself  saying, 
"at  that  name  of  Merridy,  that  ring,  and  all.  Why — 
why,  I  thought  you  might  be  the  missing  girl  I  told 
you  of — you  remember,  that  day  up  on  Lee's  Creek — 
so  I  had  to  see;  but,  dear  me,  I  should  have  been  more 
considerate — I  should  have  explained.  The  trouble  is 
I'm  a  nervous  man,  and  I  get  impulsive  streaks  on  me 
sometimes  that  I  can't  control.  I'm  sorry  I  spoiled 
your  dress,  but  I'll  get  you  another — you  bet  I  will." 

This  explanation  of  his  strange  behavior  seemed 
plausible  enough  to  banish  all  personal  fears  from 
Necia's  mind.  Indeed,  Stark  had  now  become  so 
gentle  and  apologetic  in  his  demeanor  that  her  wom- 
Jln's  curiosity  overcame  her  instinct  to  flee,  and  she 
ventured  the  question: 

"So  you  really  thought  I  was  that  other  girl?" 
205 


THE    BARRIER 

"I  did  for  a  minute.  The  mother  was  a — a — friend 
of  mine,  and  so — I  lost  my  head.  But  I'm  all  right 
now,  and  if  you'll  overlook  my  roughness  we'll  go  back 
to  your  troubles.*' 

These  last  few  moments  had  driven  her  own  worries 
from  her  mind,  but  he  was  bent  on  recalling  them,  and 
so  continued,  cautiously: 

"You  were  saying  that  you  thought  you'd  go  away. 
I  think  that's  a  good  plan,  and  you'd  be  wise  to  do  it 
for  more  reasons  than  one.  It  will  give  you  time  to 
think  it  all  over  and  know  your  own  mind — " 

"I  know  my  mind  now,  and  yet — I  don't  want  to  go 
away." 

" — and  it  will  give  Burrell  a  chance  to  prove  him 
self.  He'll  either  show  that  he  has  got  to  have  you 
at  any  cost,  or  that  you  are  right  in  your  decision.  If 
the  first  should  happen,  you  can  come  back  to  him;  if 
the  last — why,  it  will  be  better  for  you,  anyhow.  As 
long  as  you  stay  here  neither  one  of  you  can  see 
clearly." 

She  was  touched  by  his  interest,  and  realized  the 
force  of  his  argument,  which,  strange  to  say,  seemed 
to  second  her  own  thoughts;  yet  she  hesitated. 

"I  want  to  help  you — I'm  going  to  help  you — be 
cause  I've  got  an  interest  in  you  like  you  were  mine." 
Again  he  betrayed  that  strange,  mirthless  amusement. 

"There  is  no  place  for  me  to  go,"  said  Necia,  blankly, 
"except  the  Mission,  and  I  have  no  way  of  getting 
there." 

"Don't  you  worry.  I'll  furnish  the  means,  and 
you'd  better  go  to-night" — she  flinched — "yes,  to 
night;  there's  no  use  prolonging  your  agony.  I'll  get 
a  boat  ready  and  send  a  trusty  man  with  you.  The 
current  is  swift,  and  if  he  rows  well  you  can  make  it 

206 


STARK  TAKES  A  HAND  IN  THE  GAME 

by  to-morrow  evening.  That's  only  one  night  out,  and 
I'll  put  some  blankets  aboard  so  you  can  wrap  up  and 
have  a  sleep." 

"I  feel  as  if  I'd  never  sleep  again,"  she  sighed. 

"New,  now,  this  will  come  out  all  right  yet.  I'd 
take  you  down  there  myself,  but  I've  got  to  stay  here. 
I've  got  work  to  do.  Yes,  I've  sure  got  work  of  im 
portance  ahead  of  me." 

"I  must  go  back  and  get  some  clothes,"  she  said, 
At  which  he  would  have  demurred  had  he  not  seen 
that  she  could  not  travel  in  her  present  condition. 

"Very  well.     But  don't  let  anybody  see  you." 

"Of  course  not." 

"It's  getting  late,  and  your  folks  will  be  abed."  He 
looked  at  his  watch.  "Midnight!  Be  here  in  an  hour, 
and  I'll  have  the  skiff  ready." 

The  light  of  sacrifice  was  in  Necia's  eyes,  and  her 
cheeks  were  blanched  with  the  pallor  of  a  great  reso 
lution.  She  did  not  stop  to  reason  why  or  how  she 
had  been  led  to  this  disposal  of  her  future,  but  clutched 
desperately  at  Stark's  plan  of  rescue  from  her  agoniz 
ing  predicament. 

"I'll  be  here  in  an  hour,"  she  said,  simply. 

He  let  her  out,  closed  the  door  after  her,  and  locked 
it;  then,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  he  raised  his  clenched 
hands  above  his  head,  and  gave  a  great  sigh  of  exulta 
tion.  Next  he  took  out  his  six-shooter  and  examined 
it  carefully.  The  shells  did  not  suit  him,  so  he  filled 
the  gun  with  new  ones,  loosened  the  three  lower  but 
tons  of  his  vest,  and  slid  the  weapon  inside  his  trousers 
band;  then,  facing  the  direction  of  Gale's  trading-post, 
he  spoke  aloud. 

"I  was  a  long  time  coming,  Gaylord,  but  I'm  here, 
and  I've  got  you  where  I've  wanted  you  these  fifteen 

207 


THE    BARRIER 

years — yes,  and  I've  got  you,  too,  BurrelU    By  God, 

this  is  my  night!" 

His  lithe  body  became  panther-like  in  poise f  his  bear 
ing  that  of  the  meat-eating  animal,  and  his  face  set  in 
a  fierce,  exultant  cruelty  as  be  blew  out  his  light  and 
left  the  caoin. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A   MYSTERY   IS    UNRAVELLED 

IEUTENANT  BURRELL  was  considerably  taken 
aback  when,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  the  young 
lover's  ecstatic  return  to  his  quarters,  Gale  knocked  at 
his  door,  for  the  trader's  visit,  coupled  with  the  late 
hour  and  his  sombre  countenance,  forecast  new  com 
plications. 

"He's  here  to  object,  but  it  won't  got"  thought  the 
Lieutenant^  as  he  made  his  visitor  welcome. 

It  was  the  trader's  first  glimpse  of  the  officer's  quar 
ters,  and  he  cast  a  roving  eye  over  the  room,  as  if 
measuring  the  owner's  character  by  his  surroundings. 

"I've  got  to  have  a  long  talk  with  you,  Burrell," 
he  began,  with  an  effort.  "It's  liable  to  take  me  an 
hour  or  two." 

"Then  take  this  chair  and  be  comfortable/' 

Meade  swung  his  big  reading -chair  out  beneath  the 
hanging-lamp,  and,  going  to  the  sideboard,  brought 
back  a  bottle,  some  glasses,  and  a  pouch  of  tobacco. 
Noting  the  old  man's  sigh  of  fatigue  as  he  sat  himself 
down  heavily,  Ije  remarked,  sympathetically: 

"Mr.  Gale,  you've  made  a  long  trip  to-day,  and  you 
must  be  tired.  If  this  talk  is  to  be  as  lengthy  as  you 
say,  why  not  have  a  drink  with  me  now,  and  postpone 
it  until  to-morrow?" 

"I've  been  tired  for  eighteen  years,"  the  other  re- 

20Q 


THE    BARRIER 

plied;  " to-night  I  hope  to  get  rested."  He  lapsed  into 
silence,  watching  his  host  pour  out  two  glasses  of 
liquor,  fill  his  pipe,  and  then  stretch  himself  out  con 
tentedly,  his  feet  resting  on  another  chair — a  picture 
of  youthful  strength,  vitality,  and  determination.  Be 
neath  the  Lieutenant's  flannel  Siiirt  the  long,  slim 
muscles  showed  free  and  full,  and  the  firm  set  of  jaw 
and  lip  denoted  a  mind  at  rest  and  confident  of  itself. 
Gale  found  himself  for  a  moment  jealously  regarding 
the  youth  and  his  enviable  state  of  contentment  and 
decision. 

"Well,  letfs  get  at  it,"  the  younger  man  finally  said. 

"I  suppose  you'll  want  to  interrupt  and  question 
me  a  heap,  but  I'll  ask  you  to  let  me  tell  this  story  the 
way  it  comes  to  me,  till  I  get  it  out,  then  we  can  go 
back  and  take  up  the  queer  stuff.  It  runs  back  eighteen 
or  twenty  years,  and,  being  as  it's  part  of  a  hidden  life, 
it  isn't  easy  to  tell.  You'll  be  the  first  one  to  hear  it, 
and  I  reckon  you're  enough  like  other  men  to  dis 
believe —  you're  not  old  enough,  and  you  haven't 
knocked  around  enough  to  learn  that  nothing  is  im 
possible,  that  nothing  is  strange  enough  to  be  unrea 
sonable.  Likewise,  you'll  want  to  know  what  all  this 
has  to  do  with  you  and  Necia — yes,  she  told  me  about 
you  and  her,  and  that's  why  I'm  here/'  He  paused. 
"You  really  think  you  love  her,  do  you?" 

Burrell  removed  his  pipe  and  gazed  at  its  coal  im 
personally. 

"I  love  her  so  well,  Mr.  Gale,  that  nothing  you  can 
say  will  affect  me.  I — I  hesitated  at  first  about  ask 
ing  her  to  be  my  wife,  because — you'll  appreciate  the 
unusual — well,  her  unusual  history.  You  see,  I  come 
from  a  country  where  mixed  blood  is  about  the  only 
thing  that  can't  be  lived  down  or  overlooked,  and  I've 

210 


A    MYSTERY    IS   UNRAVELLED 

been  raised  with  notions  of  family  honor  and  pride  of 
race  and  birth,  and  so  forth,  that  might  seem  pre 
posterous  and  absurd  to  you.  But  a  heap  of  conceits 
like  that  have  been  bred  into  me  from  generations  back; 
they  run  in  the  blood  of  every  old  family  in  my  country, 
and  so,  I'm  ashamed  to  say,  I  hesitated  and  tried  to 
reason  myself  into  giving  her  up,  but  I've  had  my  eyes 
opened,  and  I  see  how  little  those  things  amount  to, 
after  all.  Ivm  going  to  marry  Necia,  Mr.  Gale.  I'd 
like  to  do  it  the  day  after  to-morrow,  Sunday,  but  she 
isn't  of  age  yet,  and  if  you  object,  we'll  have  to  wait 
until  November,  when  she  turns  eighteen.  We'd  both 
hke  your  consent t  of  course;  I'd  be  sorry  to  marry 
her  without  it;  but  if  you  refuse,  we'll  be  forced  to 
displease  you.*'  He  looked  up  and  met  the  father's 
gaze  steadily.  "Now,  I'll  be  glad  to  listen  as  long  as 
you  care  to  talk,  but  I  don't  think  it  will  do  any  good." 

The  other  man's  lips  framed  a  faint  smile. 

"We1!!  see.  I  wish  to  God  I'd  had  your  decision 
when  I  was  your  age,  this  story  would  be  different,  and 
easier  to  tell."  He  waited  a  moment,  then  settled  to 
his  self-appointed  task.  "I  was  mining  at  the  time 
up  in  the  Mother  Lode  country  of  California,  which  was 
the  frontier  then,  pretty  much  as  this  is  now,  only  we 
had  better  things  to  eat.  I  came  from  the  East,  or 
my  people  did,  but  I  was  ranch-raised,  and  loved  the 
hills  and  woods  and  places  where  you  don't  talk  much, 
so  I  went  to  prospecting  because  it  took  me  out  whert 
the  sun  was  bright  and  I  could  see  the  wild  things  at 
play.  I  was  one  of  the  first  men  into  a  camp  named 
Chandon — helped  to  build  it,  in  fact,  and  got  hold  of 
gome  ground  that  looked  real  good.  It  was  hard  min 
ing,  however,  and,  being  poor,  I  was  still  gripping  my 
drill  and  hammer  after  the  town  had  grown  up. 


THE    BARRIER 

"A  woman  came  out  from  the  East — Vermont,  it 
was — and  school-teaching  was  her  line  of  business,  only 
she  hadn't  been  raised  to  it,  and  this  was  her  first  clat 
ter  at  the  game;  but  things  had  broke  bad  for  her 
people$  and  ended  in  her  pulling  stakes  and  coming 
West  all  alone.  Her  folks  died  and  left  her  up  against 
it,  I  gathered  from  what  little  she  told  me — sort  of  an 
old  story,  I  guess,  and  usual  too,  only  for  her.  She 
was  plumb  unusual." 

He  seemed  to  ponder  this  a  moment,  and  then  re« 
sumed: 

"It  don't  make  any  difference  to  you  how  I  first 
saw  hers  and  how  I  began  to  forget  that  anything  else 
in  the  world  was  worth  having  but  her,  I'd  lived  m 
the  woods  all  my  life,  as  I  said,  and  knew  more  about 
birds  and  bugs  and  bees  than  I  did  about  women;  I 
hadn't  been  broke  proper,  and  didn't  know  how  to  act 
with  them;  but  I  laid  out  to  get  this  girl,  and  I  did 
fairly  well.  There's  something  wild  in  every  woman 
that  needs  to  be  tamed,  and  it  isn't  like  the  wildness 
that  runs  in  wood  critters;  you  can  win  that  over  by 
gentleness,  but  you  have  to  take  it  away  from  a  wom 
an.  Every  live  thing  that  couldn't  talk  was  my  friend; 
but  I  made  the  mistake  of  courting  my  own  kind  the 
same  way,  not  knowing  that  when  two  of  any  species 
mate  the  male  must  rule.  I  was  too  gentle.  Even 
so,  I  reckon  I'd  have  won  out  only  for  another  man. 
Dan  Bennett  was  his  name  —  the  kind  that  dumb 
animals  hate,  and — well,  that  takes  his  measure.  His 
range  adjoined  mine,  and,  though  I'd  never  seen  him, 
I  heard  stories  now  and  then — the  sort  of  tales  you  can't 
tell  to  a  good  woman ;  so  it  worried  me  when  I  heard  of 
his  attentions  to  this  girL  Still,  I  thought  she'd  surely 
find  him  out  and  recognize  the  kind  of  fellow  he 

212 


A   MYSTERY    IS   UNRAVELLED 

bttt,  Lord!  a  woman  can't  tell  a  man  from  a  dog,  and 
there  wasn't  any  one  to  warn  hen  There  were  plenty 
of  women  who  knew  him,  but  they  were  the  ones  who 
flew  by  night,  while  she  lived  in  the  sunshine;  and 
women  of  that  kind  don't  make  complaint,  anyhow. 

"This  Bennett  came  from  the  town  below,  where  he 
ran  a  saloon  and  a  brace  game  or  two ;  but  being  as  he 
rode  into  our  camp  and  out  again  in  the  night,  and  aa 
I  didn't  drink  nor  listen  to  the  music  of  the  little  rolling 
ball,  why,  we  never  met,  even  after  he  began  coming 
to  Chandon.  Understand,  I  wasn't  too  good  for  those 
amusements;  I  just  didn't  happen  to  hanker  after  them, 
for  I  was  living  with  the  image  of  the  little  school- 
ma'am  in  my  mind,  and  that  destroyed  what  bad 
habits  I'd  formed. 

"It  was  along  in  the  early  spring  that  she  began  to 
see  I  had  notions  about  her,  but  my  damned  back 
wardness  wouldn't  let  me  speak,  and,  in  addition,  I  was 
getting  closer  to  ore  every  shot  at  the  mine,  and  was 
holding  off  until  I  could  lay  both  myself  and  my  gold 
mine  at  her  feet,  and  ask  her  to  take  the  two  of  us,  so 
if  one  didn't  pan  out  the  other  might.  But  it  seemed 
like  I'd  never  get  into  pay.  The  cioser  I  got  the  harder 
I  worked,  and,  of  course,  the  less  I  saw  of  her,  likewise 
the  oftener  Bennett  came.  I  reckon  no  man  ever 
worked  like  I  did — two  shifts  a  day,  eighteen  hours, 
with  six  to  sleep.  The  skin  came  off  of  my  hands,  and 
I  staggered  when  I  came  out  into  the  daylight,  for  tu<* 
rock  was  hard,  and  I  had  no  money  to  hire  a  helper; 
but  I  was  young  and  strong,  and  the  hope  of  her  w&s 
like  drink  and  food  and  sleep  to  me.  At  last  I  struck 
it,  and  still  I  waited  awhile  longer  till  I  could  be  sure. 
Then  I  went  down  to  my  little  shack  and  put  on  my 
other  clothes.  I  remember  I'd  gone  so  thin  that  they 

213 


THE    BARRIER 

hung  loose,  and  my  palms  were  so  raw  I  had  hard 
work  handling  the  buttons,  and  got  my  shirt  all  bloody, 
for  I'd  been  in  the  drift  forty  hours,  without  sleep  and 
breathing  powder  smoke,  till  my  knees  buckled  and 
wabbled  under  me.  To  this  day  the  smell  of  stale 
powder  smoke  makes  a  woman  of  me ;  but  that  morn 
ing  I  sang,  for  I  was  going  for  my  bride,  and  the  world 
was  brighter  than  it  has  ever  been  for  eighteen  years. 
The  little  school-house  was  closed,  at  which  I  remem 
bered  that  the  term  was  over.  I'd  been  living  under 
ground  for  weeks  and  lost  track  of  the  days,  so  that  I 
had  to  count  them  up  on  my  fingers.  It  took  me  a 
long  time,  for  I  was  pretty  tired  in  my  head ;  but  when 
I'd  figured  it  out  I  went  on  to  where  she  was  boarding. 

"The  woman  of  the  place  came  to  the  door,  a  Scotch 
woman.  She  had  a  mole  on  her  chin,  I  remember,  a 
brownish-black  mole  with  three  hairs  in  it.  She  wore 
an  apron,  too,  that  was  kind  of  checkered,  and  three 
buttons  were  open  at  the  neck  of  her  dress,  I  recall  a 
lot  more  of  little  things  about  her,  though  the  rest  of 
what  happened  is  rather  dreamy. 

"I  asked  for  Merridy,  and  she  told  me  she'd  gone 
away  —  gone  with  Bennett,  the  night  before,  while  I 
was  coughing  blood  from  the  powder  smoke ;  that  they 
were  married  in  the  front  room,  and  that  the  bride 
looked  beautiful.  She  had  cried  a  bit  on  leaving 
Chandon,  and — and — that  was  about  alL  I  counted 
the  buttons  on  the  Scotchwoman's  waist  eight  or  ten 
times,  and  by-and-by  she  asked  if  I  was  sick.  But  I 
wasn't.  She  was  a  kind-hearted  woman,  and  I'd  been  to 
her  house  a  good  deal,  so  she  asked  me  to  come  in  and 
rest.  I  wasn't  tired,  so  I  went  away,  and  climbed  back 
up  to  the  little  shack  and  the  mine  that  I  nated  now." 

The  trader  paused,  and,  reaching  for  the  bottle^ 
214 


A    MYSTERY    IS    UNRAVELLED 

poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  brandy,  which  he  spilled 
into  his  throat  raw,  then  continued: 

44 1  turned  into  a  kind  of  hermit  after  that,  and 
I  wasn't  good  to  associate  with.  Men  got  so  they 
shunned  me,  and  I  knew  they  told  strange  stories,  be 
cause  I  heard  them  whisper  when  I  went  to  the  stores 
for  grub  once  a  month.  I  changed  all  over,  till  even 
my  squirreh  and  partridges  and  other  friends  quit  me; 
once  in  Awhile  I  got  out  a  ton  or  two  of  rock  and  sold 
it,  but  I  never  worked  the  mine  or  opened  it  up — I 
couldn't  bear  to  go  inside  the  drift.  I  tried  it  time 
and  again,  but  the  smell  of  its  darkness  drove  me  out; 
every  foot  of  its  ragged  walls  had  left  its  mark  on  me, 
and  my  heart  was  torn  and  gouged  and  shivered  worse 
than  its  seams  and  ledges.  I  could  have  sold  it,  but 
there  was  no  place  for  me  to  go,  and  what  did  I  want 
with  money?  I  was  shy  of  the  world,  like  a  crippled 
child  that  dreads  the  daylight,  and  I  shrank  from  going 
out  where  people  might  see  my  scars;  so  I  stayed  there 
by  myself  nursing  the  hurt  that  never  got  any  better. 
You  see,  I'd  been  raised  among  the  hills  and  rocks,  and 
I  was  like  them  in  a  way;  I  couldn't  grow  and  alter 
and  heal  up. 

"From  time  to  time  I  heard  of  her,  but  the  news,  in 
stead  of  gladdening  me,  as  it  would  have  gladdened 
some  men,  wrung  out  what  bits  of  suffering  were  left 
in  me,  and  I  fairly  ached  for  her.  Nobody  comes  to 
see  clearer  than  a  woman  deceived,  so  it  didn't  take 
her  long  to  find  out  the  kind  of  man  Bennett  was.  He 
wasn't  like  her  at  all,  and  the  reason  he  had  courted 
her  so  hotly  was  just  that  he  had  had  everything  that 
rightly  belongs  to  a  man  like  him,  and  had  sickened  of 
it,  so  he  wanted  her  because  she  was  clean  and  pure 
and  different;  and.  realizing  that  he  couldn't  get  her 


THE    BARRIER 

any  other  way,  he  had  married  her.  But  she  was  a 
treasure  no  bad  man  could  appreciate,  and  so  he  tired 
quickly,  even  before  the  little  one  came. 

"When  I  heard  that  she  had  borne  him  a  daughter 
I  wrote  her  a  letter,  which  took  me  a  month  to  com 
pose,  and  which  I  tore  up.  One  day  a  story  came  to 
me  that  made  me  saddle  my  horse  to  ride  down  and 
kill  him — and,  mind  you,  I  was  a  man  who  made  pets  of 
little  wild,  trusting  things.  But  I  knew  she  would 
surely  send  for  me  when  her  pain  became  too  great, 
so  I  uncinched  my  gear  and  hung  it  up,  and  waited 
and  waited  and  waited.  Three  long,  endless  years  I 
waited,  almost  within  sound  of  her  voice,  without  a 
word  from  her,  without  a  glimpse  of  her,  and  every  hour 
of  that  time  went  by  as  slowly  as  if  I  had  held  my 
breath.  Then  she  called  to  me,  and  I  went. 

"I  tell  you,  I  was  thankful  that  day  for  the  fortune 
that  had  made  me  take  good  care  of  my  horse,  for  I 
rode  like  Death  on  a  wind-storm.  It  grew  moonlight 
as  I  raced  down  the  valley,  and  the  foam  from  the 
animal's  mxizzle  lodged  on  my  clothes,  and  made  me 
laugh  and  swear  that  the  morning  sun  would  show 
Dan  Bennett's  blood  in  its  place.  I  rode  through  the 
streets  of  Mesa,  where  they  lived,  and  past  the  lights 
of  his  big  saloon,  where  I  heard  the  sound  of  devil's 
revelry  and  a  shrill-voiced  woman  singing — a  woman 
the  like  of  which  he  had  tried  to  make  my  Merridy.  I 
never  skulked  or  sneaked  in  those  days,  and  no  man 
ever  made  me  take  back  roads,  so  I  came  up  to  his 
house  from  the  front  and  tied  my  horse  to  his  gate-post. 
She  heard  me  on  the  steps  and  opened  the  door, 

"'You  sent  for  me,'  said  I.  'Where  is  he?'  But  he 
had  gone  away  to  a  neighboring  camp,  and  wouldn't 
be  back  until  morning,  at  which  I  felt  the  way  a  thief 

216 


A    MYSTERY    IS    UNRAVELLED 

must  feel,  for  I'd  hoped  to  meet  him  in  his  own  house, 
and  I  wasn't  the  kind  to  go  calling  when  the  husband  was 
out.  I  couldn't  think  very  clearly,  however,  because 
of  the  change  in  her.  She  was  so  thin  and  worn  and 
sad,  sadder  than  any  woman  I'd  ever  seen,  and  she 
wasn't  the  girl  I'd  known  three  years  before.  I  guess 
I'd  changed  a  heap  myself;  anyhow,  that  was  the  first 
thing  she  spoke  about,  and  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes 
as  she  breathed : 

'"Poor  boy!  poor  boy  I  You  took  it  very  hard, 
didn't  you?' 

"'You  sent  for  me,f  said  I.  'Which  road  did  he 
take?' 

'"There's  nothing  you  can  do  to  him/  she  answered 
back.  '  I  sent  for  you  to  make  sure  that  you  still  love 
me/ 

"'Did  you  ever  doubt  it?'  said  I,  at  which  she  began 
to  cry,  sobbing  like  a  woman  who  has  worn  out  all 
emotion. 

"'Can  you  feel  the  same  after  what  I've  made  you 
suffer?'  she  said,  and  I  reckon  she  must  have  read  the 
answer  in  my  eyes ;  for  I  never  was  much  good  at  talk 
ing,  and  the  sight  of  her,  so  changed,  had  taken  the 
speech  out  of  me,  leaving  nothing  but  aches  and  pains 
and  ashes  in  its  place.  When  she  saw  what  she  wished 
to  know,  she  told  me  the  story,  the  whole  miserable 
story,  that  I'd  heard  enough  of  to  suspect.  Why  she'd 
married  the  other  man  she  couldn't  explain  herself, 
except  that  it  was  a  woman's  whim — I  had  stayed 
away  and  he  had  come  the  oftener — part  pique  and 
part  the  man's  dare-devil  fascination.  I  reckon;  but  a 
month  had  shown  her  how  she  really  stood,  and  had 
shown  him,  too.  Likewise,  she  saw  the  sort  of  man 
he  was  and  the  kind  of  life  he  lived.  At  last  he  got 


THE    BARRIER 

rough  and  cruel  to  her,  trying  every  way  to  break  he* 
spirit;  and  even  the  baby  didn't  stop  him — it  made  him 
worse,  if  anything — till  he  swore  he'd  make  them  both 
the  kind  he  was,  for  her  goodness  seemed  to  rile  and 
goad  him;  and,  having  lived  with  the  kind  of  woman 
you  have  to  beat,  he  tried  it  on  her.  Then  she  knew 
her  fight  was  hopeless,  and  she  sent  for  me. 

"'He's  a  fiend,'  she  told  me.  'I've  stood  all  I  can- 
He'll  make  a  bad  woman  of  me  as  sure  as  he  will  of  the 
little  one,  if  I  stay  on  here,  so  I  have  decided  to  go  and 
take  her  with  me/ 

"'Where?'  said  I. 

"'Wherever  you  say/  she  answered;  and  yet  I  did 
not  understand,  not  till  I  saw  the  look  in  her  eyes. 
Then,  as  it  dawned  on  me,  she  broke  down,  for  it  was 
a  terrible  thing  for  a  good  woman  to  offer. 

"'It's  all  for  the  little  girl!'  she  cried.  'More  than 
her  life  depends  upon  it.  We  must  get  her  away  from 
him/ 

"She  saw  it  was  her  only  course,  and  went  where 
her  heart  was  calling." 

The  Lieutenant  met  the  look  of  appeal  in  the  trader's 
eyes,  and  nodded  to  imply  his  complete  understanding 
and  approval. 

"We  love  some  women  for  their  goodness,  others  we 
love  for  their  frailness,  but  there  never  was  one  who 
combined  the  two  like  her,  and,  now  that  I  knew  she 
loved  me,  I  began  to  believe  again  there  was  a  God 
somewhere.  I'd  never  seen  the  youngster,  so  she  led 
me  in  where  it  was  sleeping,  and  I  remember  my  boots 
made  such  a  devil  of  a  thumping  on  the  floor  that  she 
laid  her  slim  white  finger  on  her  lips  and  smiled  at  me. 
All  the  fingers  in  the  world  began  to  choke  at  my 
throat,  and  all  the  blood  in  me  commenced,  to  pound 

218 


A    MYSTERY    IS    UNRAVELLED 

at  my  heart,  when  I  looked  on  that  little  sleeping  kid- 
die.  The  tears  began  to  roll  out  of  my  eyes,  and,  be* 
cause  they  had  been  dry  for  four  years,  they  scalded 
like  melted  metal.  That  was  the  only  time  I  ever 
wept — the  sight  of  her  baby  did  it. 

'"I  love  her  already,'  I  whispered,  'and  I'll  spend 
my  life  making  her  happy  and  making  a  lady  of  her/ 
which  clinched  what  wavering  doubt  the  mother  had, 
and  she  began  to  plan  quickly,  the  fear  coming  on  her 
of  a  sudden  that  our  scheme  might  fail.  I  was  for 
riding  away  with  both  of  them  that  night,  back  through 
the  streets  of  Mesa  and  up  into  the  hills,  where  I'd  have 
held  them  single-handed  against  man  or  God  or  devil, 
but  she  wouldn't  hear  of  it. 

"'We  must  go  away/  she  said,  'a  long  way  from 
here,  where  the  world  won't  find  us  and  the  little  one 
can  grow  to  womanhood  without  knowing.  She  must 
never  learn  who  her  father  was  or  what  her  mother 
did.  We  will  start  all  over,  you  and  I  and  the  baby, 
and  forget.  Do  you  love  me  well  enough  to  do  it  ?' 

"I  uttered  a  cry  and  took  her  in  my  arms,  the  arms 
that  had  ached  for  her  all  those  years.  Then  I  kissed 
her  for  the  first  time." 

The  old  man  tried  to  light  his  pipe,  which  had  gone 
out,  but  his  fingers  shook  so  that  he  dropped  the  match; 
whereupon,  without  speaking,  Burrell  struck  another 
and  held  it  for  him.  The  trader  drew  a  noisy  puff  or 
two  in  silence  and  shot  his  host  a  grateful  glance. 

"Her  plan  was  for  me  to  take  the  youngster  away 
that  night,  and  for  her  to  join  us  later,  because  pur- 
suit  was  certain,  and  three  could  be  traced  where  one 
might  disappear;  she  would  follow  when  the  oppor 
tunity  offered.  I  saw  that  he  had  instilled  a  terror 
into  her,  and  that  she  feared  him  like  death;  but,  as  I 

2IQ 


THE    BARRIER 

thought  it  over,  her  scheme  seemed  feasible,  so  I  agreed 
I  was  to  ride  west  that  hour  with  the  sleeping  babe, 
and  conceal  myself  at  a  place  we  selected,  while  she 
would  say  that  the  little  one  had  wandered  away  and 
been  lost  in  the  canon,  or  anything  else  to  throw 
Bennett  off.  After  a  time  she  would  join  us.  Well — 
the  little  girl  never  waked  when  I  took  her  in  my  arms, 
nor  when  the  mother  broke  down  again  and  talked  to 
me  like  a  crazy  woman.  Her  collapse  showed  the  ter 
rible  strain  she  had  been  living  under,  and  the  ragged 
edge  where  her  reason  stood.  She  had  been  brave 
enough  to  plan  coolly  till  the  hour  for  giving  up  her 
baby,  but  when  that  came  she  was  seized  with  a  thou 
sand  dreads,  and  made  me  swear  by  my  love  for  her, 
which  was  and  is  the  holiest  thing  in  all  my  life,  that 
if  anything  happened  I  would  live  for  the  other  Merridy. 
I  begged  her  again  to  come  with  me,  but  her  fears  held 
her  back.  She  vowed,  however,  that  Bennett  should 
never  touch  her  again,  and  I  made  her  swear  by  her 
love  for  the  babe  that  she  would  die  before  he  ever  laid 
hands  on  her.  It  woke  a  savage  joy  in  me  to  think  1 
had  bested  him,  after  all. 

"I  never  thought  of  what  I  was  giving  up,  of  the 
clean  name  I  was  soiling,  of  the  mine  back  there  that 
meant  a  fortune  any  time  I  cared  to  take  it,  for  things 
like  that  don't  count  when  a  man's  blood  is  hot,  so  I 
rode  away  in  the  yellow  moonlight  with  a  sleeping 
baby  on  my  breast,  where  no  child  or  woman  had  ever 
lain  except  for  that  minute  before  I  left.  She  stood 
out  from  beneath  the  porch  shadow  and  smiled  her 
good-bye — the  last  I  ever  saw  of  her.  .  .  . 

"I  travelled  hard  that  night  and  swapped  horses 
at  daylight;  then,  leaving  the  wild  country  behind,  I 
came  into  a  region  I  didn't  know,  and  found  a  Mexican 

220 


A    MYSTERY    IS    UNRAVELLED 

woman  who  tended  the  child  for  me,  for  I  was  close  by 
the  place  where  Merridy  was  to  come.  Every  night  I 
went  into  the  village  in  hopes  that  some  word  had  ar 
rived,  and  I  waited  patiently  for  a  week.  Then  I  got 
the  blow.  I  heard  it  from  the  loafers  around  the  little 
post-office  first,  but  it  dazed  me  so  I  wouldn't  believe 
it  till  I  borrowed  the  paper  and  read  the  whole  story, 
with  the  type  dancing  and  leaping  before  me.  It  took 
some  hours  for  it  to  seep  in,  even  after  that,  and  for 
years  I  recalled  every  word  of  the  damned  lie  as  if  it 
had  been  branded  on  me  with  hot  irons.  They  called 
it  a  shocking  crime,  the  most  brutal  murder  California 
had  ever  known ,  and  in  the  head-lines  was  my  name  in 
letters  that  struck  me  between  the  eyes  like  a  hammer. 
Mrs.  Dan  Bennett  had  been  foully  murdered  by  me, 
in  a  fit  of  sudden  jealousy,  and  I  had  disappeared  with 
the  baby!  The  husband  had  returned  unexpectedly 
to  find  her  dying,  so  he  said,  but  too  far  gone  to  call 
for  help,  and  with  barely  sufficient  strength  to  tell  him 
who  did  it  and  how!  Then  the  paper  went  on  with  the 
tale  of  my  courting  her,  and  her  turning  me  down  for 
Bennett.  It  told  how  I  had  gone  off  alone  up  into  the 
hills,  turning  into  a  bear  that  nobody,  man  or  child, 
could  approach.  It  said  I  had  brooded  there  all  this 
time  till  the  mania  got  uppermost,  and  so  came  down 
to  wreak  my  vengeance.  They  never  even  did  me  the 
credit  of  calling  me  crazy;  I  was  a  fiend  incarnate,  a 
beast  without  soul,  and  a  lot  of  things  like  that;  and, 
remember,  I  had  never  harmed  a  living  thing  in  all 
my  life.  However,  that  wasn't  what  hurt.  What 
turned  me  into  a  dull,  dead,  suffering  thing  was  the 
knowledge  that  she  was  gone.  For  hours  I  couldn't 
get  beyond  that  fact.  Then  came  the  realization  that 
Bennett  had  done  it,  for  I  reasoned  that  he  had 

221 


THE    BARRIER 

dragged  a  hint  of  the  truth  from  her  by  very  force  of 
the  fear  he  held  her  in  —  and  slain  her.  God !  —  the 
awful  rage  that  came  over  me!  But  there  was  nothing 
to  do;  I  had  sworn  to  guard  the  little  one,  so  I  couldn't 
take  vengeance  on  him.  I  couldn't  go  back  and  prove 
my  innocence,  for  that  would  give  the  child  to  him. 
What  a  night  I  spent !  The  next  day  I  saw  I  had  been 
indicted  by  the  grand  jury  and  was  a  wanted  man. 
From  a  distance  I  watched  myself  become  an  outlaw; 
watched  the  county  put  a  price  upon  my  head,  which 
Bennett  doubled ;  watched  public  opinion  rise  to  such 
a  heat  that  posses  began  to  scour  the  mountains. 
What  I  noted  in  particular  was  a  statement  in  the 
paper  that  'The  sorrowing  husband  takes  his  bereave 
ment  with  the  quiet  courage  which  marks  a  brave  man'! 
That  roused  me  more  than  the  knowledge  that  he  had 
made  me  a  wolf  and  set  my  friends  on  my  track,  which 
I  hadn't  covered  very  well,  having  ridden  boldly.  It 
happened  that  the  Mexican  woman  couldn't  read  and 
talked  little;  still,  I  knew  they'd  find  me  soon  —  it 
couldn't  be  otherwise — so  I  made  another  run  for  it, 
swearing  an  oath,  however,  before  I  left  that  I'd  come 
back  and  have  that  gambler's  heart. 

"It  was  lucky  I  went,  for  they  uncovered  my  sign 
the  next  day,  and  the  country  where  I'd  hidden  blazed 
like  a  field  of  dry  grass.  They  were  close  on  my  heels, 
and  they  closed  in  from  every  quarter,  but,  pshaw!  I 
knew  the  woods  like  an  Indian,  and  the  wild  things 
were  my  friends  again,  which  would  have  made  it  play 
if  I'd  been  alone,  but  a  girl  child  of  three  was  harder 
to  manage.  So  I  cowered  and  skulked  day  after  day 
like  a  thief  or  the  murderer  they  thought  me,  working 
always  farther  into  the  hidden  places,  travelling  by 
night  with  the  little  one  asleep  on  my  bosom,  by  day 

222 


A    MYSTERY    IS    UNRAVELLED 

praying  with  her  in  some  leafy  glen,  with  my  pursuers 
so  close  behind  that  for  weeks  I  never  slept;  and  my 
love  for  the  child  increased  daily  till  it  became  almost 
an  insanity. 

"  She  was  the  only  woman  thing  I  had  ever  possessed, 
and  it  seemed  like  my  love  for  the  mother  came  back 
and  settled  on  her.  And  she  loved  me,  too,  and  trusted 
me.  Every  little  smile,  every  clasp  of  her  tiny,  dim 
pled  ringers  showed  it,  and  tied  her  to  me  with  another 
knot  till  the  fear  of  losing  her  became  greater  than  I 
could  bear,  till  it  kept  the  chill  of  death  in  my  bones 
and  filled  my  veins  with  glacier  water.  I  became  an 
animal,  a  cowardly,  quailing  coyote,  all  through  the  love 
of  a  child. 

"We  had  close  squeezes  many  times,  but  I  finally 
won,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they  tracked  us  clear  to 
the  edge  of  the  desert,  for  I  had  hit  for  the  state  line, 
knowing  that  Nevada  was  a  wilderness,  and  feeling 
that  I'd  surely  lose  them  there.  And  I  did.  But  in 
doing  it  I  nearly  lost  Merridy.  You  see,  the  constant 
travel  and  hardship  was  too  much  for  a  prattling  baby, 
and  she  fell  sick  from  tne  heat  and  the  dust  and  the 
thirst.  I'd  been  going  and  going  till  I  was  a  riding 
skeleton,  till  my  arms  were  crooked  and  dead  from 
holding  her,  but  this  new  thing  frightened  me  like  those 
men  and  dogs  had  nevei  done.  Here  was  a  thing 
I  couldn't  hide  from  nor  outride,  so  I  doubled  back  and 
came  boldly  into  the  watered  country  again,  expecting 
they  would  take  me,  of  course,  for  a  runaway  man  with 
a  babe  in  his  arms  isn't  hard  to  identify,  but  I  didn't 
care.  I  was  bound  for  the  nearest  ranch  or  mining- 
camp  where  a  woman  could  be  found;  but,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  I  went  through  without  trying.  I  had 
gone  farther  from  men  and  things,  however,  than  I 

223 


THE    BARRIER 

thought,  and  this  return  pursuit  was  a  million  times 
worse  than  the  other,  for  I  couldn't  go  fast  enough  to 
shake  Death,  who  ran  with  his  hand  on  my  cantle  or 
rode  on  my  horse's  rump.  It  was  then  I  found  Alluna. 
She  was  with  a  hunting-party  of  Pah-Utes,  who  knew 
nothing  of  me  nor  of  the  white  man's  affairs,  and  cared 
less ;  aud  when  I  saw  the  little  squaw  I  rode  my  horse 
up  beside  her,  laid  the  sick  child  in  her  arms,  then 
tumbled  out  of  the  saddle.  They  had  a  harder  job  to 
pull  me  through  than  they  did  to  save  Merridy,  for  I'd 
given  the  baby  all  the  water  and  hadn't  slept  or  rested 
for  many  years,  so  it  seemed. 

"The  little  one  was  playing  around  several  days  be 
fore  I  got  back  my  reason.  Meanwhile  the  party  had 
moved  North,  taking  us  with  them,  and,  as  it  happened, 
just  missing  a  posse  who  were  returning  from  the 
desert. 

"When  I  was  able  to  get  about  I  told  Alluna  that 
I  must  be  going,  but  as  I  told  her  I  watched  her  face, 
and  saw  the  sign  I  wanted — the  white  girl  had  clutched 
at  her  like  she  had  at  me,  and  she  couldn't  give  her  up, 
so  I  made  a  dicker  with  hec  old  man.  It  took  all  the 
money  I  had  to  buy  that  squaw,  but  I  knew  the  kiddie 
must  have  a  woman's  care ;  and  the  three  of  us  started 
out  soon  after,  alone,  and  broke,  and  aimless  —  and 
we've  been  going  ever  since. 

"That's  the  heart  of  the  story,  Lieutenant,  and  that's 
how  I  started  to  drift.  Since  then  we  three  have 
never  rested.  I  left  them  once  in  Idaho  and  went 
back  to  Mesa,  riding  all  the  way,  mostly  by  night, 
but  Bennett  was  gone.  He'd  run  down  mighty  fast 
after  Merridy  died,  so  I  heard,  growing  sullen  and 
uglier  day  by  day — and  I  reckon  I  was  the  only  one 
who  knew  why — till  he  had  a  killing  in  his  place.  It 

224 


A    MYSTERY    IS    UNRAVELLED 

was  unorovoked,  and  instead  of  stopping  to  face  it  out 
the  yellow  in  him  rose  to  the  surface  and  he  left  be 
fore  sunup,  as  I  had  left,  making  a  clean  getaway,  too, 
for  there  was  no  such  hullabaloo  raised  about  killing 
a  man  as  there  was  about — the  other.  So  my  trip  was 
all  for  nothing. 

"I  was  used  to  disappointment  by  now,  so  I  took  it 
quiet  and  went  back  to  Alluna  and  the  little  one,  know 
ing  that  some  day  we  two  men  would  meet.  You  see, 
I  figured  that  God  had  framed  a  cold  hand  for  me,  but 
He  would  surely  give  me  a  pair  before  the  game  closed. 
Of  course,  never  having  seen  Bennett,  I  was  handi 
capped,  and,  added  to  that,  he  changed  his  name,  so 
the  search  was  mighty  slow  and  blind,  but  I  knew 
the  day  would  come.  And  it  would  have  come  only 
for — this. 

"  There  isn't  much  more  to  tell.  I  did  what  most 
men  would  have  done,  I  reckon,  because  I  was  just 
average  in  every  way.  I  took  Alluna,  and  together 
we  drifted  North,  along  the  frontier,  until  we  landed 
here.  Every  year  the  little  girl  got  more  beautiful  and 
more  like  her  mother,  and  every  year  we  two  loved  her 
more.  We  changed  her  name,  of  course,  for  I've  al 
ways  had  the  dread  of  the  law  back  of  me,  and  then 
the  other  two  kiddies  came  along;  but  we  were  living 
pretty  easy,  the  woman  contented  and  me  waiting  for 
Bennett,  till  you  stepped  in  and  Necia  fell  in  love. 
That's  another  thing  I  never  counted  on.  It  seems 
like  I've  always  overlooked  the  plainest  kind  of  facts. 
I've  held  off  telling  you  the  last  few  weeks,  hoping  you 
two  wouldn't  make  it  necessary,  for  I  reckon  I'm  sort 
nf  a  cowaru;  out  she  informed  me  to-night  that  she 
couldn't  marry  you,  being  what  she  thinks  she  is,  and 
knowing  the  blood  she  has  in  her  I  knew  she  wouldn't. 

22$ 


THE    BARRIER 

I  figured  it  wouldn't  be  right  to  either  of  you  to  let 
you  go  it  blind,  and  so  I  came  in  to  tell  you  this  whole 
thing  and  to  give  myself  up." 

Gale  stopped,  then  poured  himself  another  drink. 

"To  give  yourself  up?"  echoed  Burrell,  vaguely. 
"How  do  you  mean  ?"  He  had  sat  like  one  in  a  trance 
during  the  long  recital,  only  his  eyes  alive. 

"I'm  under  indictment  for  murder,"  said  the 
trader.  "I  have  been  for  fifteen  years,  and  there's 
no  chance  in  the  world  for  me  to  prove  my  inno 
cence." 

"Have  you  told  Necia?"  the  young  man  in 
quired. 

"No,  you'll  have  to  do  that  —  I  never  could  —  she 
might — disbelieve.  What's  more,  you  mustn't  tell  her 
yet.  Wait  till  I  give  the  word.  It  won't  be  long,  per 
haps  a  day.  I  want  to  go  free  a  little  while  yet,  for 
I've  got  some  work  to  do." 

Burrell  rose  to  his  feet  and  stamped  the  cramps  from 
his  muscles.  He  was  deeply  agitated,  and  his  mind 
was  groping  darkly  for  light  to  lay  hold  of  this  new 
thing  that  confronted  him. 

"Why,  yes,  yes — of  course — don't  come  until  you're 
ready,"  he  muttered,  mechanically,  as  if  unaware  of 
the  meaning  of  his  words.  "To  be  sure,  I'm  a 
policeman,  am  I  not  ?  I  had  forgotten  I  was  a  jailer, 
and — and  all  that."  He  said  it  sneeringly,  and  with 
a  measure  of  contempt  for  his  office;  then  he  turned 
suddenly  to  the  trader,  and  his  voice  was  rich  and 
deep-pitched  with  feeling. 

"John  Gale,"  he  said,  "you're  the  bravest  man  I 
ever  knew,  and  the  best."  He  choked  a  bit.  "You 
sacrificed  all  that  life  meant  when  this  girl  was  a  baby, 
and  now  when  she  has  come  into  womanhood  you  give 

226 


A    MYSTERY    IS    UNRAVELLED 

I 

up  your  blood    for  her.     By  God!     You  are  a  man  I 
I  want  your  hand!" 

In  spite  of  himself  he  could  not  restrain  the  moist-" 
ure  that  dimmed  his  eyes  as  he  gripped  the  toil-worn 
palm  of  this  great,  giay  hulk  of  a  man,  so  aged  and 
bent  beneath  the  burden  of  his  life-long,  fadeless  love, 
who,  in  turn,  was  powerfully  affected  by  the  young 
man's  impulsive  outburst  of  feeling  and  his  unexpected 
words  of  praise.  The  old  man  looked  up  a  trifle  shyly. 

"Then  you  don't  doubt  no  part  of  it?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Somehow,  I  always  figured  nobody  would  believe 
me  if  ever  I  told  the  whole  thing." 

The  soldier  gazed  unseeingly  into  the  flame  of  his 
lamp,  and  said: 

"I  wonder  if  my  love  for  the  daughter  is  as  great 
and  as  holy  as  your  love  for  the  mother.  I  wonder  if 
I  could  give  what  you  have  given,  if  I  had  nothing  but 
a  memory  to  live  with  me."  Then  he  inquired,  irrele 
vantly;  "But  what  about  Bennett,  Mr.  Gale?  You 
say  you  never  found  him?" 

The  trader  answered,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
"He's  still  at  large."  At  which  his  companion  ex 
claimed,  "I'd  love  to  meet  him  in  your  stead!" 

Gale  seemed  seized  with  a  desire  to  speak,  but,  even 
while  he  hesitated,  out  of  the  silent  night  there  came 
the  sound  of  quick  footsteps  approaching  briskly,  as 
if  the  owner  were  in  haste  and  knew  whither  he  was 
bound.  Up  the  steps  they  came  lightly;  then  the 
room  and  the  whole  silence  round  about  rang  and 
echoed  with  a  peremptory  signal.  Evidently  this  man 
rapped  on  the  board  door  to  awaken  and  alarm,  for 
instead  of  his  knuckles  he  used  some  hard  and  heavy 
thing  like  a  gun-butt. 

227 


THE    BARRIER 

*' Lieutenant  Burrell!  Lieutenant  BurrellP8  a  gruff 
voice  cried. 

"Who's  there  ?"  called  the  young  man. 

"Let  me  in!  Quick!  I've  got  work  for  you  to  do! 
Open  up,  I  say!  Thi?  IF  Ren  Sfcvkf" 


K  XV 

AND   A    KNOT   TIGHTENED 

A  DAY  of  shattered  hopes  is  a  desolate  thing,  but 
the  night  of  such  a  day  is  desolate  indeed.  In 
all  his  life  Poleon  Doret  had  never  sunk  to  such  depths 
of  despondency,  for  his  optimistic  philosophy  and  his 
buoyant  faith  in  the  goodness  of  life  forbade  it.  There 
fore,  when  darkness  came  it  blotted  out  what  little 
brightness  and  light  and  hope  were  left  to  him  after 
Necia's  stormy  interview  with  the  Lieutenant.  The 
arrival  of  the  freight  steamer  afforded  him  some  dis 
traction,  but  there  was  only  a  small  consignment  for 
the  store,  and  that  was  quickly  disposed  of  so,  leav 
ing  the  other  citizens  of  Flambeau  to  wrangle  over  their 
private  merchandise,  he  went  back  to  his  solitary  vigil, 
which  finally  became  so  unbearable  that  he  sought  to 
escape  his  thoughts,  or  at  least  to  drown  them  for  a 
while,  amid  the  lights  and  life  and  laughter  of  Stark's 
saloon.  Being  but  a  child  by  nature,  his  means  of  dis 
traction  were  primal  and  elementary,  and  he  began  to 
gamble,  as  usual  with  hard  luck,  for  the  cards  had  ever 
been  unkind  to  him.  He  did  not  think  of  winnings  or 
losings,  however — he  merely  craved  the  occupation; 
and  it  was  this  that  induced  him  to  sit  at  a  game  in 
which  Runnion  played,  although  ordinarily  he  would 
not  have  tolerated  even  tacitly  such  a  truce  to  his  dis 
likes.  As  it  was,  he  crouched  in  a  corner,  his  hat  pulled 

22Q 


THE    BARRIER 

down  over  his  brow,  his  swarthy  face  a  darker  hue 
beneath  the  shadow,  losing  steadily,  only  now  and  then 
showing  a  flash  of  white  teeth  as  he  saw  his  money  go. 
What  mattered  loss  to  him  ?  He  had  no  more  need  of 
money  now  than  Necia  had  of  his  love.  He  would  spend 
the  dollars  he  had  eked  a,nd  scraDed  and  saved  for  her 
as  she  had  spent  the  treasures  or  hi?  heart,  and  now 
that  the  one  had  brought  him  no  return  he  wished  to 
be  rid  of  the  other,  for  he  was  shortly  to  go  again  in 
search  of  his  "  New  Country,"  where  no  man  needs  gold 
half  so  much  as  a  clean  heart.  It  would  be  a  long 
journey,  far  to  the  West  and  North — a  journey  that 
none  of  his  kind  had  ever  fared  back  from,  and  he 
wished  to  go  light,  as  all  good  adventurers  go. 

Runnion  annoyed  him  with  his  volubility,  for  the 
news  of  his  good-fortune  had  fired  the  man  with  a 
reckless  disregard  for  money,  and  he  turned  to  gaming 
as  the  one  natural  recourse  of  his  ilk.  As  the  irony  of 
fate  would  have  it,  he  won  what  the  Canadian  lost, 
together  with  the  stakes  of  various  others  who  played 
for  a  time  with  him  and  then  gave  up,  wagging  their 
heads  or  swearing  softly  at  the  cards. 

It  was  shortly  after  midnight  that  Stark  came  into 
the  place.  Poleon  was  not  too  absorbed  in  his  own 
fortunes  to  fail  to  notice  the  extraordinary  ferocity 
and  exhilaration  of  the  saloon-keeper,  nor  that  his  face 
was  keener,  his  nostrils  thinner,  his  walk  more  nervous, 
and  his  voice  more  cutting  than  usual  when  he  spoke 
to  Runnion, 

"Come  here," 

"  I'll  be  with  you  when  I  finish  this  hand,**  said  the 
player,  over  his  shoulder. 

"Come  here!"  Stark  snapped  his  command,  and 
Runnion  threw  down  his  cards, 

330 


AND    A    KNOT    TIGHTENED 

"I'm  right  in  the  middle  of  a  winning  streak.  You  11 
break  my  luck,  Ben." 

But  the  other  only  frowned  impatiently,  and,  draw 
ing  the  reluctant  gambler  aside,  began  to  talk  rapidly 
to  him,  almost  within  ear-shot  of  Poleon,  who  watched 
them,  idly  wondering  what  Stark  had  to  say  that  could 
make  Runnion  start  and  act  so  queerly.  Well,  it  was 
their  affair.  They  made  a  bad  pair  to  draw  to.  He  knew 
that  Runnion  was  the  saloon-keeper's  lieutenant  and 
obeyed  implicitly  his  senior's  commands.  He  could  dis 
tinguish  nothing  they  said,  nor  was  he  at  all  curious  un 
til  a  knot  of  noisy  men  crowded  up  t>  the  bar,  and,  fore' 
ing  the  two  back  nearer  to  the  table  where  he  sat,  his 
sharp  ears  caught  these  words  from  Runnion's  lips: 

"Not  with  me!  She'd  never  go  with  me  I"  and 
Stark's  reply: 

"She'll  go  where  I  send  her,  and  with  anybody  I 
tell  her  to." 

The  Frenchman  lost  what  followed,  for  a  newly  dealt 
hand  required  study.  He  scanned  his  cards,  and  tossed 
them  face  up  before  the  dealer ;  then  he  overheard  Run 
nion  say: 

"It's  the  only  one  in  camp.  He  might  sell  it  if  you 
offered  him  enough."  At  this  Stark  called  one  of  the 
men  at  the  bar  aside,  and  the  three  began  to  dicker. 

"Not  a  cent  less,"  the  third  man  announced,  loudly. 
"There  ain't  another  Peterborough  in  town." 

It  was  Poleon's  deal  now,  and  when  he  had  finished 
both  Stark  and  Runnion  had  disappeared,  also  the 
man  they  had  accosted,  which  pleased  the  Canadian, 
for  now  that  Runnion  was  eliminated  from  the  game 
he  might  win  a  little.  A  steady,  unvarying  run  of 
bad  hands  is  uninteresting,  and  does  not  occu  py  one's 
mind  as  well  as  an  occasional  change  of  luck 
*  231 


THE    BARRIER 

Outside  Runnion  was  saying  again  to  Stark: 

"She  won't  go  with  me,  Ben;  she  don't  like  me. 
You  see,  I  made  love  to  her,  and  she  got  mad  and 
wanted  me  killed." 

"She'll  never  know  who  you  are  until  it's  too  late 
to  turn  back,"  said  the  other,  "and  you  are  the  only 
man  I  can  trust  to  take  her  through.  I  can  trust  you 
— you  owe  me  too  much  to  be  crooked." 

"Oh,  I'll  act  square  with  you!  But  look  here,  what's 
^11  this  about,  anyhow?  Why  do  you  want  that  girl? 
You  said  you  didn't  care  for  her  that  way;  you  told 
me  so  yourself.  Been  having  a  change  of  heart,  or  is 
it  your  second  childhood?"  He  laughed  disagreeably. 

"It's  none  of  your  business,"  said  the  gambler.  "I 
want  her,  and  that's  enough.  All  you  have  to  do  is 
to  take  her  to  St.  Michael's  and  keep  her  there  till 
you  hear  from  me.  She  thinks  she  is  going  to  the 
Mission,  and  you  needn't  tell  her  otherwise  until  you 
get  her  aboard  a  steamer;  then  take  her,  no  matter 
what  kind  of  a  fight  she  puts  up.  You've  got  a  light- 
rowing  skiff,  and  you'd  better  keep  going  till  you're 
overtaken  by  a  down-river  boat.  I  want  her  as  far 
away  from  here  as  possible.  There's  going  to  be  some 
hell  in  this  camp.  Now,  hike,  and  get  yourself  ready." 

"All  right!  But  I  ain't  the  safest  kind  of  a  chap 
eron  for  a  good-looking  girl." 

Stark  laid  a  cold  hand  on  Runnion's  shoulder,  close 
up  to  his  neck. 

"Get  that  out  of  your  mind.     She  belongs  to  me." 

"You  said  just  now — " 

"Never  mind  what  I  said.  She's  mine,  and  you've 
got  to  promise  to  be  straight  with  her.  I've  trusted 
you  before,  and  if  you're  not  on  the  level  now,  say  so. 
It  will  save  you  a  lot  of  trouble." 

232 


AND    A    KNOT    TIGHTENED 

"Oh!  All  right!"  exclaimed  Runnion,  testily. 
"Only  it  looks  mighty  queer." 

He  melted  into  the  darkness  and  Stark  returned  to 
his  cabin,  where  he  paced  back  and  forth  impatiently, 
smiling  evilly  now  and  then,  consulting  his  watch  at 
frequent  intervals.  A  black  look  had  begun  to  set 
tle  on  his  face,  but  it  vanished  when  Necia  came,  and 
he  met  her  with  a  smile. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  had  weakened,"  he  said.  "  Every 
thing  is  ready  and  waiting.  I've  got  the  only  canoe  in 
the  place,  a  Peterborough,  and  hired  a  good  oarsman 
to  put  you  through,  instructing  him  to  make  as  fast 
time  as  he  can,  and  to  board  the  first  steamer  that 
overtakes  you.  Too  bad  this  freighter  that  just  got  in 
isn't  going  the  other  way.  However,  there's  liable  to 
be  another  any  hour,  and  if  one  doesn't  come  along 
you'll  find  enough  blankets  and  food  in  the  skiff,  so 
you  needn't  go  ashore.  You'll  be  there  before  you 
know  it." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  the  girl.  "I  can't  thank 
you  enough."  She  was  clothed  in  her  simple  every 
day  dress,  and  looked  again  the  sun-colored  half-breed 
girl  with  the  wide,  dark  eyes  and  the  twin  braids  of 
crow-black  hair. 

"You  didn't  run  into  anybody,  eh?" 

She  shook  her  head.  Then  he  led  her  out  into  the 
darkness,  and  they  stumbled  down  to  the  river's-bank, 
descending  to  the  gravelly  water's  edge,  where  rows 
of  clumsy  hand-sawed  boats  and  poling-skiffs  were 
chafing  at  their  painters.  The  up-river  steamer  was 
just  clearing. 

Stark's  low  whistle  was  answered  a  hundred  yards 
below,  and  they  searched  out  a  darker  blot  that  proved 
to  be  a  man's  figure. 


THE    BARRIER 

-'Is  everything  ready?"  he  inquired,  at  which  the 
shadow  grunted  unintelligibly.  So,  holding  Necia  by 
the  arm,  Stark  helped  her  back  to  a  seat  in  the  stern. 

"This  man  will  take  you  through,"  he  said.  "You 
can  trust  him,  all  right." 

The  oarsman  clambered  in  and  adjusted  his  sweeps, 
then  Stark  laid  a  hand  on  the  prow  and  shoved  the 
light  boat  out  into  the  current,  calling  softly: 

"Good-bye,  and  good -luck." 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Stark.  Thank  you  ever  so  much," 
the  girl  replied,  too  numb  and  worn  out  to  say  much, 
or  to  notice  or  care  whither  she  was  bound  or  who  was 
her  boatman.  She  had  been  swept  along  too  swiftly 
to  reason  or  fear  for  herself  any  more. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  scattered  lights  of  the  little 
camp  winked  and  twinkled  for  the  last  time.  Turning, 
she  set  her  face  forward,  and,  adjusting  the  cushions 
to  her  comfort,  strained  her  tired  eyes  towards  the 
rising  and  falling  shadow  of  her  boatman.  She  seemed 
borne  along  on  a  mystic  river  of  gloom  that  hissed  and 
gurgled  about  her,  invisible  but  all-pervading,  irresisti 
ble,  monstrous,  only  the  ceaseless,  monotonous  creak  of 
the  rowlocks  breaking  the  silence. 

Stark  did  not  return  to  his  cabin,  but  went  back 
instead  to  his  saloon,  where  he  saw  Poleon  Doret  still 
sprawling  with  elbows  on  the  table,  his  hat  pulled  low 
above  his  sullen  face.  The  owner  of  the  place  passed 
behind  the  bar  and  poured  himself  a  full  glass  of 
whiskey,  which  he  tossed  off,  then,  without  a  look  to 
right  or  left,  went  out  and  down  towards  the  barracks. 
A  light  behind  the  drawn  curtains  of  the  officer's  house 
told  that  his  man  was  not  abed,  but  he  waited  a  long 
moment  after  his  summons  before  the  door  was  opened, 

234 


AND    A    KWOT    TIGHTENED 

during  which  he  heard  the  occupant  moving  about  and 
another  door  close  in  the  rear.  When  he  was  allowed 
entrance  at  last  he  found  the  young  man  alone  in  a 
smoke-filled  room  with  a  bottle  and  two  empty  glasses 
on  the  table. 

For  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  Gale  had  whispered 
to  Burrell,  "  Keep  him  out!"  and  the  Lieutenant  had 
decided  to  refuse  his  late  visitor  admittance  when 
he  lighted  on  the  expedient  of  concealing  the  trader 
in  the  bedroom  at  the  rear.  It  was  only  natural,  he 
reasoned,  that  Gale  should  dislike  to  face  a  man  like 
Stark  before  he  had  regained  his  composure. 

"Go  in  there  and  wait  till  I  see  what  he  wants,"  he 
had  said,  and,  shutting  the  old  man  in,  he  had  gone 
forth  to  admit  Stark,  resenting  his  ill-timed  intrusion 
and  inquiring  brusquely  the  cause  of  it. 

Before  answering,  Stark  entered  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 

"I've  got  some  work  for  you,  Lieutenant." 

"I  guess  it  can  wait  till  morning,"  said  Meade. 

"No,  it  can't;  it's  got  to  be  done  to-night,  right  now! 
You  represent  the  law,  or  at  least  you've  taken  every 
occasion  to  so  declare  yourself,  and  to  mix  in  with 
little  things  that  don't  cut  much  figure;  so  now 
I've  come  to  you  with  something  big.  It's  a  serious 
affair,  and  being  as  I'm  a  peaceful  man  I  want  to  go 
by  the  law."  His  eyes  mocked  the  words  he  uttered. 
"You're  mighty  prompt  and  determined  when  it  comes 
to  regulating  such  affairs.  You  seem  to  carry  the 
weight  of  this  whole  community  on  your  shoulders,  so 
I'm  here  to  give  you  some  information." 

Burrell  ignored  the  taunt,  and  said,  quietly:  "It's 
a  little  late  for  polite  conversation.  Come  to  the 
point." 


THE    BARRIER 

''I've  got  a  criminal  for  you." 

"What  kind?" 

"Murderer." 

"You've  had  a  killing  in  your  place,  eh?'* 

"No,  I've  just  made  a  discovery.  I  found  it  all  out 
by  accident,  too — pure  accident.  By  Heaven!  You 
can't  tell  me  there  isn't  a  beneficent  Providence  over,, 
looking  our  affairs.  Why,  this  felon  has  lived  here 
among  us  all  this  time,  and  only  for  the  merest  chance 
I  never  would  have  recognized  him." 

"Well,  well!     Go  on!"  snapped  Burrell,  impatiently. 

"He's  a  friend  of  yours,  and  a  highly  respected 
party.  He's  a  glorious  example  to  this  whole  river." 

The  officer  started.  Could  it  be?  he  wondered. 
Could  knowledge  of  this  affair  have  reached  this  man  ? 
He  was  uncomfortably  aware  of  that  presence  in  the 
back  room,  but  he  had  to  know  the  truth. 

"Who  is  the  man?" 

"He's  your  friend.  He's — "  Stark  paused,  gloat 
ing  over  his  enemy's  suspense. 

"Go  on." 

"He's  everybody's  friend.  He's  the  shining  mark 
of  this  whole  country.  He's  the  benevolent  renegade, 
Squaw-man  Gale." 

"John  Gale?" 

"Gaylord  is  his  name,  and  I  was  a  fool  not  to  know 
it  sooner." 

"How  did  you  discover  this?"  inquired  Burrell, 
lamely.  "What  proof  have  you?" 

The  disclosure  had  not  affected  the  soldier  as  Stark 
expected,  and  his  anger  began  to  lift  itself. 

"That's  neither  here  nor  there;  the  man's  a  mur 
derer;  he's  wanted  in  California,  where  I  came  from; 
he's  been  indicted,  and  there's  a  price  on  his  head, 

236 


AND    A    KNOT    TIGHTENED 

He's  hidden  for  fifteen  years,  but  he'll  hang  as  sure 
as  I  stand  here." 

Disclosures  of  a  complex  nature  had  so  crowded  on 
Burrell  in  the  last  few  hours  that  he  saw  himself  the 
centre  of  a  most  unfortunate  and  amazing  tangle. 
Things  were  difficult  enough  as  it  was,  but  to  have 
this  man  appear  and  cry  for  justice — this  man  above 
all  others! — it  was  r>-  complication  quite  unlooked  for — • 
a  hideous  mockery.  He  must  gain  time  for  thought. 
One  false  step  might  ruin  all.  He  could  not  face  this 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  so,  shrugging  his  shoulders 
with  an  air  of  polite  scepticism,  he  assumed  a  tone  of 
good-natured  raillery. 

"Fifteen  years?  Murder?  John  Gale  a  murderer? 
Why,  that's  almost — pardon  me  if  I  smile — I'm  get 
ting  sleepy.  What  proof  have  you?" 

"Proof!"  blazed  the  gambler.  "Proof!  Ask  Gay- 
lord!  Proof!  Why,  the  woman  he  murdered  was  my 
wife!" 

It  was  Bun-ell's  turn  now  to  fall  incoherent,  and  not 
only  did  his  speech  forsake  him,  but  his  thoughts  went 
madly  veering  off  into  a  wilderness  where  there  was  no 
trail,  no  light,  no  hope..  What  kind  of  a  coil  was  this? 
What  frightful  bones  were  these  he  bared  ?  This  man 
was  Bennett!  This  was  Necia's  father!  This  man  he 
hated,  this  man  who  was  bad,  whose  name  was  a  curse 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  West,  was 
the  father  of  the  girl  he  loved!  His  head  began  to 
whirl,  then  the  story  of  the  trader  came  back  to  him, 
and  he  remembered  who  and  what  the  bearer  of  these 
later  tidings  was.  He  raised  a  pair  of  eyes  that  had 
become  furious  and  bloodshot,  and  suddenly  realized 
that  the  man  before  him,  who  persisted  in  saddling 
upon  Gale  this  heinous  crime,  was  the  slayer  of  Necia's 

237 


THE    BARRIER 

mother;  for  he  did  not  doubt  Gale's  story  for  an  in« 
stant.  He  found  bis  fingers  writhing  to  feel  the  creat 
ure's  throat. 

"Proof!"  Stark  was  growling.  "How  much  proof 
do  you  need?  I've  followed  him  for  fifteen  years. 
I've  tracked  him  with  men  and  dogs  through  woods 
and  deserts  and  mining-camps.  I've  slept  on  his  trail 
for  five  thousand  miles,  and  now  d.^  you  think  I'm  mis 
taken?  He  killed  my  wife,  I  say,  and  robbed  me  of 
my  little  girl!  That's  her  in  his  house.  That's  her 
he  calls  Necia.  She's  my  girl — my  girl,  do  you  under 
stand? — and  I'll  have  his  life." 

It  was  hate  that  animated  him,  and  nothing  more. 
He  had  no  joy  in  the  finding  of  his  offspring,  i?.o  up 
lifted  thought  of  justice.  The  thirst  for  revenge,  per 
sonal,  violent,  utter,  was  all  that  prompted  this  man; 
but  Burrell  had  no  inkling  yet  of  the  father's  well- 
shaped  plans,  nor  how  far-reaching  they  were,  and  could 
barely  stammer: 

"So!     You— you  know?" 

"Yes!  She  wears  the  evidence  around  her  neck, 
and  if  that  isn't  enough  I  can  furnish  more — evidence 
enough  to  smother  you.  My  name  isn't  Stark  at  all; 
I  changed  it  years  ago  for  certain  reasons.  I've  changed 
it  more  than  once,  but  that's  my  privilege  and  my  own 
affair.  Her  name  is  Merridy  Bennett/* 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  know  I'm  going  to  marry  her,* 
said  the  Kentuckian,  irrelevantly. 

"No,"  replied  the  other,  "I  wasn't  aware  of  the 
fact." 

"Well,  I  am.  I'll  be  your  son-in-law."  He  said  this 
as  if  it  were  the  statement  of  an  astonishing  truth, 
whereat  Stark  grinned,  a  mirthless,  disquieting  sort  of 
grimace,  and  said : 

238 


AND    A    KNOT    TIGHTENED 

"There's  a  lot  of  things  for  you  and  me  to  settle  up 
first.  For  one  thing,  I  want  those  mines  of  hers." 

"Why?" 

"Well,  I'm  her  father,  and  she's  not  of  age." 

"I'll  think  it  over." 

"I'll  take  them,  anyway,  as  her  next  of  kin." 

Burrell  did  not  follow  up  this  statement,  for  its  truth 
was  incontrovertible,  and  showed  that  the  father's  ill- 
will  was  too  tangible  a  thing  to  be  concealed;  so  he 
continued : 

"We'll  adjust  that  after  Gale  is  attended  to;  but, 
meanwhile,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"I  want  you  to  arrest  the  man  who  killed  my  wife. 
If  you  don't  take  him  the  miners  will.  I've  got  a  fol 
lowing  in  this  camp,  and  I'll  raise  a  crowd  in  fifteen 
minutes — enough  to  hang  this  squaw-man,  or  batter 
down  your  barracks  to  get  him.  But  I  don't  want  to 
do  that ;  I  want  to  go  by  the  law  you've  talked  so  much 
about;  I  want  you  to  do  the  trick." 

At  last  Burrell  saw  the  gambler's  deviltry.  He 
knew  Stark's  reputation  too  well  to  think  that  he  feared 
a  meeting  with  Gale,  for  the  man  had  lived  in  hope  of 
that  these  fifteen  years,  and  had  shaped  his  life  around 
such  a  meeting;  but  this  indirect  method — the  Ken- 
tuckian  felt  a  flash  of  reluctant  admiration  for  a  man 
who  could  mould  a  vengeance  with  such  cruel  hands, 
and,  even  though  he  came  fjxmi  a  land  of  feuds,  where 
hate  is  a  precious  thing,  the  cunning  strength  of  this 
man's  enmity  dwarfed  any  he  had  ever  known.  Stark 
had  planned  his  settlement  coldly  and  with  deliberate 
malice ;  moreover,  he  was  strong  enough  to  stand  aside 
and  let  another  take  his  place,  and  thus  deny  to  Gale 
the  final  recourse  of  a  hunted  beast,  the  desperate  satis 
faction  that  the  trader  craved.  He  tied  his  enemy's 

339 


THE    BARRIER 

hands  and  delivered  him  up  with  his  thirst  unsatisfied 
— to  whom  ?  He  thrust  a  weapon  into  the  hand  of  his 
other  enemy,  and  bade  this  other  enemy  use  it ;  worse 
than  that,  forced  him  to  strike  the  man  he  honored — • 
the  man  he  loved.  Burrell  never  doubted  that  Stark 
had  carefully  weighed  the  effect  of  this  upon  Necia, 
and  had  reasoned  that  a  girl  like  her  could  not  under 
stand  a  soldier's  duty  if  it  meant  the  blood  of  a  parent. 
If  he  refused  to  act,  the  gambler  could  break  him,  while 
every  effort  he  made  to  protect  Gale  would  but  in 
crease  the  other's  satisfaction.  There  was  no  chance 
of  the  trader's  escape.  Stark  held  him  in  his  hand. 
His  followers  would  do  his  bidding.  It  was  a  desper 
ate  affair.  Was  it  impossible,  the  Lieutenant  won 
dered,  to  move  this  man  from  his  purpose  ? 

"Have  you  thought  of  Necia?  She  loves  Gale. 
What  effect  will  this  have  on  her?" 

"Damn  her!  She's  more  his  brat  than  mine.  I 
want  John  Gay  lord!" 

At  this  a  vicious  frenzy  overtook  Burrell,  and  he 
thought  of  the  man  behind  yonder  door,  whom  he  had 
forgotten  until  these  words  woke  something  savage  in 
him.  Well!  Why  not?  These  two  men  had  stalked 
each  other  clear  into  the  farthest  places,  driven  by 
forces  that  were  older  than  the  hills.  Who  was  he  to 
stand  between  such  passions?  This  was  ordained,  it 
was  the  course  of  nature,  the  clash  of  elements,  and 
this  was  a  fair  battle-ground,  so  why  should  he  under 
take  to  stop  a  thing  decreed  ? 

The  gambler's  words  rang  in  his  ears — "I  want  John 
Gaylord  " — and  before  he  knew  what  he  was  doing  he 
had  answered:  "Very  well.  I'll  give  him  to  you,"  and 
crossed  quickly  to  the  door  of  his  bedroom  and  flung 
it  open.  On  the  threshold  he  paused  stock-still.  The 

240 


AND    A    KNOT    TIGHTENED 

place  was  empty;  a  draught  sucked  through  the  oper» 
window,  flirting  with  the  curtain  and  telling  the  story 
of  the  trader's  exit. 

"If  you're  looking  for  your  coat,  it's  here,"  he  heard 
Stark  say.  "Get  into  it,  and  we'll  go  for  him." 

The  Lieutenant's  mind  was  working  fast  enough  now, 
in  all  conscience,  and  he  saw  with  clear  and  fateful  eyes 
whither  he  was  being  led,  at  which  a  sudden  reckless 
disregard  for  consequences  seized  him.  He  felt  a  blind 
fury  at  being  pulled  and  hauled  and  driven  by  this 
creature,  and  also  an  unreasoning  anger  at  Gale's 
defection.  But  it  was  the  thought  of  Necia  and 
the  horrible  net  of  evil  in  which  this  man  had  en 
snared  them  both  that  galled  him  most.  It  was  all 
a  terrible  tangle,  in  which  the  truth  was  hopelessly 
hidden,  and  nothing  but  harm  could  come  from  at 
tempting  to  unravel  it.  There  was  but  one  solution, 
and  that,  though  fundamental  and  effective,  was  not 
to  be  expected  from  an  officer  of  the  law.  Neverthe 
less,  he  chose  it,  for  Ben  Stark  was  too  potent  a  force 
for  evil  to  be  at  large,  and  needed  extermination  as 
truly  as  if  he  were  some  dangerous  beast.  He  deter 
mined  to  finish  this  thing  here  and  now. 

Meade  went  to  his  bureau,  took  his  revolver  from  the 
belt  where  he  had  hung  it,  and  came  out  into  the  other 
room.  Stark,  seeing  the  weapon,  exclaimed: 

"You  don't  need  that;    he  won't  resist  you." 

"I've  decided  not  to  take  him,"  said  Burrell. 

"Decided  not  to  take  him?"  shouted  the  other. 
"Have  you  weakened?  Don't  you  intend  to  arrest 
that  man?" 

"No!"  cried  the  soldier.  "I've  listened  to  your  lies 
long  enough;  now  I'm  going  to  stop  them,  once  for  all. 
You're  too  dangerous  to  have  around." 

241 


THE    BARRIER 

They  faced  each  other  silently  a  moment;  then 
Stark  spoke  in  a  very  quiet  voice,  though  his  eyes  were 
glittering: 

" What's  the  meaning  of  this?     Are  you  crazy?" 

"Gale  was  here  just  before  you  came,  and  told  me 
who  killed  your  wife.  I  know." 

"You  do?" 

"I  do." 

"Well?" 

"It's  pretty  late.  This  place  is  lonely.  This  is  the 
simplest  way." 

The  gambler  fell  to  studying  his  antagonist,  and 
when  he  did  not  speak  Burrell  continued: 

"Come,  brace  up!     I'm  giving  you  a  chance." 

But  Stark  shook  his  head. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  insisted  the  Lieutenant.  "There 
are  no  witnesses.  If  you  get  me,  nobody  will  know, 
and  your  word  is  good.  If  not — it's  much  simpler 
than  the  other."  Then,  when  the  gambler  still  made 
no  move,  he  insisted,  "You  wouldn't  have  me  kill  you 
like  a  rattlesnake?" 

"You  couldn't,"  said  the  older  man.  "You're  not 
that  kind — and  I'm  not  the  kind  to  be  cheated,  either. 
Listen!  I've  lived  ov^r  forty  years,  and  I  never  took 
less  than  was  coming  to  me.  I  won't  begin  to 
night." 

"You'll  get  your  share — " 

"Bah!  You  don't  know  what  I  mean.  I  don't 
want  you;  it's  him  I'm  after,  and  when  I'm  done  with 
him  I'll  take  care  of  you;  but  I  won't  run  any  risk 
right  now.  I  won't  take  a  chance  on  losing  what  I've 
risked  so  much  to  gain,  what  I've  lived  these  fifteen 
years  to  get.  You  might  put  me  away — there's  the 
possibility — and  I  won't  let  you  or  any  other  man — of 

242 


AND    A    KNOT    TIGHTENED 

woman  either,  not  even  my  girl — cheat  me  out  of 
Gale.  Put  up  your  gun." 

The  soldier  hesitated,  then  did  as  he  was  bidden,  for 
this  man  knew  him  better  than  he  knew  himself. 

"I  ought  to  treat  you  like  a  mad  dog,  but  I  can't  do 
it  while  your  hands  are  up.  I'm  going  to  fight  for 
John  Gale,  however,  and  you  can't  take  him." 

"I'll  have  his  carcass  hung  to  my  ridge-pole  before 
daylight." 

"No." 

"I  say  yes!"  Stark  turned  to  go,  but  paused  at  the 
door.  "And  you  think  you'll  marry  Necia,  do  you?" 

"I  know  it." 

"Like  hell  you  will!     Suppose  you  find  her  first." 

"What  do  you  mean?     Wait — " 

But  his  visitor  was  gone,  leaving  behind  him  a  lover 
already  sorely  vexed,  and  now  harassed  by  a  new  and 
sudden  apprehension.  What  venom  the  man  dis 
tilled!  Could  it  be  that  he  had  sent  Necia  away? 
Burrell  scouted  the  idea.  She  wasn't  the  kind  to  go 
at  Stark's  mere  behest ;  and  as  for  his  forcing  her,  why, 
this  was  not  an  age  of  abductions!  He  might  aim  to 
take  her,  but  it  would  require  some  time  to  establish 
his  rights,  and  even  then  there  were  Gale  and  himself 
to  be  reckoned  with.  Still,  this  was  no  time  for  idling, 
and  he  might  as  well  make  certain,  so  the  young  man 
put  on  his  coat  hurriedly,  knowing  there  was  work  to 
do.  There  was  no  telling  what  this  night  would  bring 
forth,  but  first  he  must  warn  his  friend,  after  which 
they  would  fight  this  thing  together,  not  as  soldier  and 
civilian,  but  as  man  and  man,  not  for  the  law,  but 
against  it.  He  smiled  as  he  realized  the  situation. 
Well,  he  was  through  with  the  army,  anyhow;  his  path 
was  strange  and  new  from  this  time  henceforth,  and 

243 


THE    BARRIER 

led  him  away  from  all  he  had  known,  taking  him  among 
other  peoples;  but  he  did  not  flinch,  for  it  led  to  her. 
Behind  him  was  that  former  life;  to-night  he  began 
anew. 

Stark  traced  his  way  back  to  his  cabin  in  a  ten  times 
fiercer  mood  than  he  had  come,  reviling,  cursing,  hat 
ing;  back  past  the  dark  trading-post  he  went,  pausing 
to  shake  his  clenched  fist  and  grind  out  an  oath  be 
tween  his  teeth ;  past  the  door  of  his  own  saloon,  which 
was  a-light,  and  whence  came  the  sound  of  revelry, 
through  the  scattered  houses,  where  he  went  more  by 
feel  than  by  sight,  up  to  the  door  of  his  own  shack. 
He  fitted  his  key  in  the  lock,  but  the  door  swung  open 
without  his  aid,  at  which  he  remembered  that  he  had 
only  pulled  it  after  him  when  he  came  away  with  Necia. 
He  closed  it  behind  him  now,  and  locked  it,  for  he  had 
some  thinking  to  do;  then  felt  through  his  pockets  for 
a  match,  and,  striking  it,  bent  over  his  lamp  to  adjust 
the  wick.  It  flared  up  steady  and  strong  at  last,  flood 
ing  the  narrow  place  with  its  illumination;  then  he 
straightened  up  and  turned  towards  the  bed  to  throw 
off  his  coat,  when  suddenly  every  muscle  of  his  body 
leaped  with  an  uncontrollable  spasm,  as  if  he  had  un 
covered  a  deadly  serpent  coiled  and  ready  to  spring. 
In  spite  of  himself  his  lungs  contracted  as  if  with  the 
grip  of  giant  hands,  and  his  breath  came  forth  in  a 
startled  cry. 

John  Gale  was  sitting  at  his  table,  barely  an  arm's- 
length  away,  his  gray -blue  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  and  the 
deep  seams  of  his  heavy  face  set  as  if  graven  in  stone. 
His  huge,  knotted  hands  were  upon  the  table,  and  be 
tween  them  lay  a  naked  knife. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
JOHN  GALE'S  HOUR 

IT  was  a  heathenish  time  of  night  to  arouse  the  girl, 
thought  Burrell,  as  he  left  the  barracks,  but  he  must 
allay  these  fears  that  were  besetting  him,  he  must  see 
Necia  at  once.  The  low,  drifting  clouds  obscured  what 
star-glow  there  was  in  the  heavens,  and  he  stepped  back 
to  light  a  lantern.  By  its  light  he  looked  at  his  watch 
and  exclaimed,  then  held  it  to  his  ear.  Five  hours  had 
passed  since  he  left  Gale's  house.  Well,  the  call  was 
urgent,  and  Necia  would  understand  his  anxiety. 

A  few  moments  later  he  stood  above  the  squaw,  who 
crouched  on  the  trader's  doorstep,  wailing  her  death 
song  into  the  night.  He  could  not  check  her;  she  paid 
no  heed  to  him,  but  only  rocked  and  moaned  and 
chanted  that  strange,  weird  song  which  somehow  gave 
strength  to  his  fears. 

"What's  wrong;  where  is  Necia?  Where  is  she?" 
he  demanded,  and  at  last  seized  her  roughly,  facing 
her  to  the  light,  but  Alluna  only  blinked  owlishly  at 
his  lantern  and  shook  her  head. 

"Gone  away,"  she  finally  informed  him,  and  began  to 
weave  again  in  her  despair,  but  he  held  her  fiercely. 

"Where  has  she  gone?  When  did  she  go?"  He 
shook  her  to  quicken  her  reply. 

"I  don'  know.     I  don'  know.     Long  time  she's  gone, 


245 


THE    BARRIER 

comprehend,  so  he  pushed  past  her  into  the  house  to 
see  for  himself,  and  without  knocking  flung  Necia's  door 
open  and  stepped  into  her  chamber.  Before  he  had 
swept  the  unfamiliar  room  with  his  eyes  he  knew  that 
she  had  indeed  gone,  and  gone  hurriedly,  for  the  signs 
of  disorder  betrayed  a  reckless  haste.  Hanging  across 
the  back  of  a  chair  was  what  had  once  been  the  won 
drous  dress,  Poleon's  gift,  now  a  damp  and  draggled 
ruin,  and  on  the  floor  were  two  sodden  satin  slippers 
and  a  pair  of  wet  silk  stockings.  He  picked  up  the 
lace  gown  and  saw  that  it  was  torn  from  shoulder  to 
waist.  What  insanity  had  possessed  the  girl  to  rip  her 
garment  thus? 

"She  take  her  'nother  dress;  the  one  I  make  las'  sum 
mer,"  said  Alluna,  who  had  followed  him  in  and  stood 
staring  as  he  stared. 

"When  did  she  go,  Alluna?  For  God's  sake,  what 
does  this  mean?" 

"I  don'  know!  She  come  and  she  go,  and  I  don* 
see  her;  mebbe  three,  four  hour  ago." 

"Where's  Gale?  He'll  know.  He's  gone  after  her, 
eh?" 

The  upward  glow  of  the  lantern  heightened  the 
young  man's  pallor,  and  again  the  squaw  broke  into 
her  sad  lament. 

"John  Gale — he's  gone  away  with  the  knife  of  my 
father.  I  am  afraid — I  am  afraid." 

Burrell  forced  himself  to  speak  calmly;  this  was  no 
time  to  let  his  wits  stampede. 

"How  long  ago?" 

"Long  time." 

"Did  he  come  back  here  just  now?" 

-'No;  he  went  to  the  jail-house,  and  he  would  not 
let  me  follow.  He  don'  come  back  no  more." 


JOHN    GALE'S    HOUR 

This  was  confusing,  and  Meade  cried,  angrily: 

"Why  didn't  you  give  the  alarm?  Why  didn't  you 
come  to  me  instead  of  yelling  your  lungs  out  around 
the  house?" 

"He  told  me  to  wait,"  she  said,  simply. 

"Go  find  Poleon,  quick." 

"He  told  me  to  wait,"  she  repeated,  stoically,  atY"" 
Burrell  knew  he  was  powerless  to  move  her.  He  saw 
the  image  of  a  great  terror  in  the  woman's  face.  Th6 
night  suddenly  became  heavy  with  the  hint  of  un 
speakable  things,  and  he  grew  fearful,  suspecting  now 
that  Gale  had  told  him  but  a  part  of  his  story,  that 
all  the  time  he  knew  Stark's  identity,  and  that  his 
quarry  was  at  hand,  ready  for  the  kill ;  or,  if  not,  he  had 
learned  enough  while  standing  behind  that  partition. 
Where  was  he  now  ?  Where  was  Necia  ?  What  part  did 
she  play  in  this?  Stark's  parting  words  struck  Bur 
rell  again  like  a  blow.  This  life-long  feud  was  drawing 
swiftly  to  some  tragic  culmination,  and  somewhere  out 
in  the  darkness  those  two  strong,  hate-filled  men  were 
settling  their  scores.  All  at  once  a  fear  for  the  trader's 
life  came  upon  the  young  man,  and  he  realized  that  a 
great  bond  held  them  together.  He  could  not  think 
clearly,  because  of  the  dread  thing  that  gripped  him  at 
thought  of  Necia.  Was  he  to  lose  her,  after  all  ?  He 
gave  up  trying  to  think,  and  fled  for  Stark's  saloon, 
reasoning  that  where  one  was  the  other  must  be  near, 
and  there  would  surely  be  some  word  of  Necia.  He 
burst  through  the  door;  a  quick  glance  over  the  place 
showed  it  empty  of  those  he  sought,  but,  spying 
Poleon  Doret,  he  dragged  him  outside,  inquiring  breath 
lessly  : 

"Have  you  seen  Gale?" 

"No."  * 
w  247 


THE    BARRIER 

2* Have  you  seen  Stark?     Has  he  been  about?** 

"Yes,  wan  hour,  mebbe  two  hour  ago.  W'y?  Wat 
for  you  ask?" 

"There's  the  devil  to  pay.  Those  two  have  come 
together,  and  Necia  is  gone." 

"Necia  gone?"  the  Canadian  jerked  out.  "Wat 
you  mean  by  dat  ?  Were  she's  gone  to  ?" 

"I  don't  know — nobody  knows.  God!  I'm  shak 
ing  like  a  leaf." 

"Bah!  She's  feel  purty  bad!  She's  go  out  by  her- 
se'f.  Dat's  all  right." 

"I  tell  you  something  has  happened  to  her;  there's 
hell  to  pay.  I  found  her  clothes  at  the  house  torn  to 
ribbons  and  all  muddy  and  wet." 

Poleon  cried  out  at  this. 

"We've  got  to  find  her  and  Gale,  and  we  haven't  a 
minute  to  lose.  I'm  afraid  we're  too  late  as  it  is.  I 
wish  it  was  daylight.  Damn  the  darkness,  anyhow! 
It  makes  it  ten  times  harder." 

His  incoherence  alarmed  his  listener  more  than  his 
words. 

"Were  have  you  look?" 

"I've  been  to  the  house,  but  Alluna  is  crazy,  and 
says  Gale  has  gone  to  kill  Stark,  as  near  as  I  can  make 
out.  Both  of  them  were  at  my  quarters  to-night,  and 
I'm  afraid  the  squaw  is  right." 

"But  w'ere  is  Necia?" 

"We  don't  know;  maybe  Stark  has  got  her." 

The  Frenchman  cursed  horribly.  "Have  you  try 
hees  cabane?" 

"No." 

Without  answer  the  Frenchman  darted  away,  and 
the  Lieutenant  sped  after  him  through  the  deserted 
TOWS  of  log-houses. 

248 


JOHN    GALE'S    HOUR 

"Ha!  Dere's  light,"  snarled  Doret,  over  his  shoul 
der,  as  they  neared  ther  goal. 

"Be  careful,"  panted  Burrell.  "'Wait!  Don't  knock." 
He  forced  Poleon  to  pause.  "Let's  find  out  who's  in 
side.  Remember,  we're  working  blind." 

He  gripped  his  companion's  arm  with  fingers  of  steel, 
and  together  they  crept  up  to  the  door,  but  even  be 
fore  they  had  gained  it  they  heard  a  voice  within.  It 
was  Stark's.  The  walls  of  the  house  were  of  moss- 
chinked  logs  that  deadened  every  sound,  but  the  door 
itself  was  of  thin,  whip-sawed  pine  boards  with  ample 
cracks  at  top  and  bottom,  and,  the  room  being  of  small 
dimensions,  they  heard  plainly.  The  Lieutenant  lean 
ed  forward,  then  with  difficulty  smothered  an  excla 
mation,  for  he  heard  another  voice  now — the  voice  of 
John  Gale.  The  words  came  to  him  muffled  but  dis 
tinct,  and  he  raised  his  hand  to  knock,  when,  suddenly 
arrested,  he  seized  Poleon  and  forced  him  to  his  knees, 
hissing  into  his  ear: 

"Listen!     Listen!     For  God's  sake,  listen!" 

For  the  first  time  in  his  tempestuous  life  Ben  Stark 
lost  the  iron  composure  that  had  made  his  name  a  by 
word  in  the  West,  and  at  sight  of  his  bitterest  enemy 
seated  in  the  dark  of  his  own  house  waiting  for  him 
he  became  an  ordinary,  nervous,  frightened  man  faced 
by  a  great  peril.  It  was  the  utter  unexpectedness  of 
the  thing  that  shook  him,  and  before  he  could  regain 
his  balance  Gale  spoke: 

"I've  come  to  settle,  Bennett." 

"What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  the  gambler  stammered. 

"I  was  up  at  the  soldier's  place  just  now  and  heard 
you.  I  didn't  want  any  interruptions,  so  I  came  here 
where  we  can  be  alone."  He  paused,  and,  when  Stark 

24$ 


THE    BARRIER 

made  no  answer,  continued,  "Well,  let's  get  at  it.** 
But  still  the  other  made  no  move.  "You've  had  all 
the  best  of  it  for  twenty  years,"  Gale  went  on,  in  his 
level  voice,  "but  to-night  I  get  even.  By  God!  I've 
lived  for  this." 

"That  shot  in  Lee's  cabin?"  recalled  Stark,  with  the 
light  of  a  new  understanding.  "You  knew  me  then?" 

"Yes." 

Stark  took  a  deep  breath.  "What  a  damned  fool 
I've  been!" 

"Your  devil's  magic  saved  you  that  time,  but  it  won't 
stop  this."  The  trader  rose  slowly  with  the  knife  in 
his  hand. 

"You'll  hang  for  this!"  said  the  gambler,  unsteadily, 
at  which  Gale's  face  blazed. 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  the  trader,  exultingly;  "you  can 
feel  it  in  your  guts  already,  eh  ?" 

With  an  effort  Stark  began  to  assemble  his  wits  as 
the  trader  continued: 

"You  saddled  your  dirty  work  on  me,  Ben  Stark, 
and  I've  carried  it  for  fifteen  years;  but  to-night  I  put 
you  out  the  way  you  put  her  out.  An  eye  for  an  eye!" 

"I  didn't  kill  her,"  said  the  man. 

"Don't  lie.  This  isn't  a  grand  jury.  We're  all 
alone." 

"I  didn't  kill  her." 

"So?  The  yellow  is  showing  up  at  last.  I  knew 
you  were  a  coward,  but  I  didn't  think  you'd  be  afraid 
to  own  it  to  yourself.  That  thing  must  have  lived 
with  you." 

"Look  here,"  said  Stark,  curiously,  "do  you  really 
think  I  killed  Merridy?" 

"I  know  it.  A  man  who  would  strike  a  woman 
would  kill  her — if  he  had  the  nerve." 

250 


JOHN    GALE'S    HOUR 

Stark  had  now  mastered  himself,  and  smiled. 

"My  hate  worked  better  than  I  thought.  Well,  well, 
that  made  it  hard  for  you,  didn't  it?"  he  chuckled. 
"I  supposed,  of  course,  you  knew —  " 

"Knew?"  Gale's  face  showed  emotion  for  the  first 
time.  "Knew  what — ?"  His  hands  were  quivering 
slightly. 

"She  killed  herself." 

"So  help  you  God?" 

"So  help  me  God!" 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

"Why?" 

"Say,  it's  kind  of  funny  our  standing  here  talk 
ing  about  that  thing,  isn't  it?  Well,  if  you  want  to 
know,  I  came  home  early  that  night — I  guess  you 
hadn't  been  gone  two  hours — and  the  surprise  did  it, 
more  than  anything  else,  I  suppose — she  hadn't  pre 
pared  a  story.  I  got  suspicious,  named  you  at  ran 
dom,  and  hit  the  nail  on  the  head.  She  broke  down, 
thought  I  knew  more  than  I  did,  and — and  then  there 
was  hell  to  pay." 

"Go  on." 

"I  suppose  I  talked  bad  and  made  threats — I  was 
crazy  over  you — till  she  must  have  thought  I  meant  to 
kill  her,  but  I  didn't.  No.  I  never  was  quite  that 
bad.  Anyhow,  she  did  it  herself." 

Gale's  face  was  like  chalk,  and  his  voice  sounded  thin 
and  dry  as  he  said: 

"You  beat  her,  that's  why  she  did  it." 

Stark  made  no  answer. 

"The  papers  said  the  room  showed  a  struggle." 

When  the  other  still  kept  silent,  Gale  insisted: 

•'Didn't  you?" 

At  this  Stark  flamed  up  defiantly, 
251 


THE    BARRIER 

"Well,  I  guess  I  had  cause  enough.  No  woman  ex* 
cept  her  was  ever  untrue  to  me — wife  or  sweetheart." 

''You  didn't  really  think—?" 

''Think  hell!  I  thought  so  then,  and  I  think  so  now. 
She  denied  it,  but — " 

"And  you  knew  her  so  well,  too.  I  guess  you've 
had  some  bad  nights  yourself,  Bennett,  with  that  al 
ways  on  your  mind — " 

-'I  swore  I'd  have  you — " 

" — and  so  you  put  her  blood  on  my  head,  and  made 
me  an  outlaw."  After  an  instant:  "Why  did  you 
tell  me  this,  anyhow?" 

"It's  our  last  talk,  and  I  wanted  you  to  know  how 
well  my  hate  worked." 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  all,"  said  Gale.  So  far  they 
had  watched  each  other  with  unwavering,  unblinking 
eyes,  straining  at  the  leash  and  taut  in  every  nerve. 
Now,  however,  the  trader's  fingers  tightened  on  the 
knife-handle,  and  his  knuckles  wnitened  with  the  grip, 
at  which  Stark's  right  hand  swept  to  his  waist,  and 
simultaneously  Gale  lunged  across  the  table.  His 
blade  flickered  in  the  light,  and  a  gun  spoke,  once — 
twice — again  and  again.  A  cry  arose  outside  the  cabin, 
then  some  heavy  thing  crashed  in  through  the  door, 
bringing  light  with  it,  for  with  his  first  leap  Gale  had 
Carried  the  lamp  and  the  table  with  him,  and  the  two 
had  clenched  in  the  dark. 

Rurrell  had  waited  an  instant  too  long,  for  the  men's 
voices  had  held  so  steady,  their  words  had  been  so 
vital,  that  the  finish  found  him  unprepared,  but,  thrust 
ing  the  lantern  into  Poleon's  hand,  he  had  backed  off  a 
pace  and  hurled  himself  at  the  door.  He  had  learned 
the  knack  of  bunching  his  weight  in  football  days,  and 
the  barrier  burst  and  splintered  before  him.  He  fell  to 

252 


JOHN    GALE'S    HOUR 

his  knees  inside,  and  an  instant  later  found  himself 
wrestling  for  his  life  between  two  raging  beasts.  The 
Lieutenant  knew  Doret  must  have  entered  too,  though 
he  could  not  see  him,  for  the  lantern  shed  a  sickly  gloom 
over  the  chaos.  He  was  locked  desperately  with  John 
Gale,  who  flung  him  about  and  handled  him  like  a 
child,  fighting  like  an  old  gray  wolf,  hoary  with  years 
and  terrible  in  his  rage.  Burrell  had  never  been  so 
battered  and  harried  and  torn;  only  for  the  lantern's 
light  Gale  would  doubtless  have  sheathed  his  weapon 
in  his  new  assailant,  but  the  more  fiercely  the  trader 
struggled,  the  more  tenaciously  the  soldier  clung.  As 
it  was,  Gale  carried  the  Lieutenant  with  him  and  struck 
over  his  head  at  Stark. 

Poleon  had  leaped  into  the  room  at  Bun-ell's  heels, 
to  receive  the  impact  of  a  heavy  body  hurled  backward 
into  his  arms  as  if  by  some  irresistible  force.  He  seized 
it  and  tore  it  away  from  the  thing  that  pressed  after 
and  bore  down  upon  it  with  the  ferocity  of  a  wild  beast. 
He  saw  Gale  reach  over  the  Lieutenant's  head  and 
swing  his  arm,  saw  the  knife-blade  bury  itself  in  what 
he  held,  then  saw  it  rip  away,  and  felt  a  hot  stream 
spurt  into  his  face.  So  closely  was  the  Canadian  en 
tangled  with  vStark  that  he  fancied  for  an  instant  the 
weapon  had  wounded  both  of  them  for  the  trader  had 
aimed  at  his  enemy's  neck  where  it  joined  the  shoulder, 
but,  hampered  by  the  soldier,  his  blow  went  astray 
about  four  inches.  Doret  glimpsed  Burrell  rising  from 
his  knees,  his  arms  about  the  trader's  waist,  and  the 
next  instant  the  combatants  were  dragged  apart. 

The  Lieutenant  wrenched  the  dripping  blade  from 
Gale's  hand;  it  no  longer  gleamed,  but  was  warm  and 
slippery  in  h;s  fingers.  Poleon  held  Stark's  gun,  which 
was  empty  and  smoking. 

253 


THE    BARRIER 

The  fight  had  not  lasted  a  minute,  and  yet  what  ter 
rible  havoc  had  been  wrought!  The  gambler  was 
drenched  with  his  own  blood,  which  gushed  from  him, 
black  in  the  yellow  flicker,  and  so  plentifully  that  the 
Frenchman  was  befouled  with  it,  while  Gale,  too,  was 
horribly  stained,  but  whether  from  his  own  or  his 
, enemy's  veins  it  was  hard  to  tell.  The  trader  paid  no 
-heed  to  himself  nor  to  the  intruders,  allowing  Burrell 
to  push  him  back  against  the  wall,  the  breath  wheezing 
in  and  out  of  his  lungs,  his  eyes  fastened  on  Stark. 

"I  got  you,  Bennett!"  he  cried,  hoarsely.  "Your 
magic  is  no  good."  His  teeth  showed  through  his 
grizzled  muzzle  like  the  fangs  of  some  wild  animal. 

Bennett,  or  Stark,  as  the  others  knew  him,  lunged 
about  with  his  captor,  trying  to  get  at  his  enemy,  and 
crying  curses  on  them  all,  but  he  was  like  a  child  in 
Poleon's  arms.  Gradually  he  weakened,  and  suddenly 
resistance  died  out  of  him. 

"Come  away  from  here,"  the  Lieutenant  ordered 
Gale. 

But  the  old  man  did  not  hear,  and  gathered  him 
self  as  if  to  resume  the  battle  with  his  bare  hands, 
whereupon  the  soldier,  finding  himself  shaking  like  a 
frightened  child,  and  growing  physically  weak  at  what 
he  saw,  doubted  his  ability  to  prevent  the  encounter, 
and  repeated  his  command. 

"Come  away!"  he  shouted,  but  the  words  sounded 
foolishly  flat  and  inane. 

Then  Stark  spoke  intelligibly  for  the  first  time. 

"Arrest  him!  You've  got  to  believe  what  I  told  you 
now,  Burrell."  He  poured  forth  a  stream  of  unspeak 
able  profanity,  smitten  by  the  bitter  knowledge  of  his 
first  and  only  defeat.  "You'll  hang,  Gaylord!  I'll 
see  your  neck  stretched,  damn  your  heart!"  To 

254 


JOHN    GALE'S    HOUR 

Poleon  he  panted,  excitedly:  "I  followed  him  for  fifteen 
years,  Dorct.     He  killed  my  wife." 

"Dat's  damn  lie!"  said  the  Frenchman. 

"No,  it  isn't.  He's  under  indictment  for  it  back  in 
California.  He  shot  her  down  in  cold  blood,  then  ran 
off  with  my  kid.  That's  her  he  calls  Necia.  She's 
mine.  Ain't  I  right,  Lieutenant  ?" 

At  this  final  desperate  effort  to  fix  the  crime  upon 
his  rival,  Burrell  turned  on  him  with  loathing. 

"It's  no  use,  Stark.  We  heard  you  say  she  killed 
herself.  We  were  standing  outside  the  door,  both  of 
us,  and  got  it  from  your  own  lips." 

Until  this  moment  the  man  had  stood  on  his  own 
feet,  but  now  he  began  to  sag,  seeing  which,  Poleon 
supported  him  to  the  bed,  where  he  sank  weakly,  col 
lapsing  in  every  joint  and  muscle. 

"It's  a  job,"  he  snarled.  "You  put  this  up,  you 
three,  and  came  here  to  gang  me."  An  unnatural 
shudder  convulsed  him  as  his  wounds  bit  at  him,  and 
then  he  flared  up  viciously.  "But  I'll  beat  you  all. 
I've  got  the  girl!  I've  got  her!" 

"Necia!"  cried  Burrell,  suddenly  remembering,  for 
this  affray  had  driven  all  else  from  his  mind. 

Stark  crouched  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk — a  ghastly, 
gray,  grinning  thing!  One  weapon  still  remained  to 
him,  and  he  used  it. 

"Yes,  I've  got  my  daughter!" 

"Where  is  she?"  demanded  the  trader,  hoarsely. 
"Where's  my  girl?" 

The  gambler  chuckled;  an  agony  seized  him  till  he 
hiccoughed  and  strangled;  then,  as  the  spell  passed,  he 
laughed  again. 

"She's  got  you  in  her  head,  like  the  mother  had,  but 
111  drive  it  out;  I'll  treat  her  like  I  did  her—" 

255 


THE   BARRIER 

Gale  uttered  a  terrible  cry  and  moved  upon  him. 
but  Burrell  shouldered  the  trader  aside,  himself  pos 
sessed  by  a  cold  fury  that  intensified  his  strength  ten* 
fold. 

"Stop  it,  Gale!  Let  me  attend  to  this.  Ill  make 
him  tell!" 

"Oh,  will  you?"  mocked  the  girl's  father. 

"Where  is  she?" 

"None  of  your  damned  business."  Again  he  was 
seized  with  a  paroxysm  that  left  him  shivering  and 
his  lips  colorless.  The  blankets  were  soaked  and  soggy 
with  blood,  and  his  feet  rested  in  a  red  pool. 

"Ben  Stark/1  said  the  tortured  lover,  "you're  a  sick 
man,  and  you'll  be  gone  in  half  an  hour  at  this 
rate.  Won't  you  do  one  decent  thing  before  you 
die?" 

"Bah!     I'm  all  right." 

"Ill  get  you  a  doctor  if  you'll  tell  tia  where  she  is. 
II  you  don't — Fli — let  you  die.  For  God's  sake,  man, 
speak  upT 

The  wounded  man  strove  to  rise,  but  could  not,  then 
considered  for  a  moment  before  he  said: 

"I  sent  her  away." 

"  Where  r 

"Up -river,  on  that  freighter  that  left  last  night. 
She'll  go  out  by  Skagway,  and  I'll  join  her  later,  where 
I  can  have  her  to  myself.  She's  forty  miles  up-river 
now,  and  getting  farther  every  minute— oh,  you  can't 
catch  her!5' 

The  three  men  stared  at  one  another  blankly. 

"Why  did  she  go?"  said  Gale,  dully. 

"Because  1  told  her  who  she  was,  and  who  you  arei 
because  she  thinks  you  killed  her  mother;  because  she 
glad  to  get  away8"  Now  that  he  was  grown  toe? 


JOHN  GALE'S  HOUR 

weak  to  inflict  violent  pain,  the  man  lied  malevolently, 
gloating  over  what  he  saw  in  the  trader's  face. 

"Never  mind,  old  man,  I'll  bring  her  back,"  said 
Burrell,  and  laid  a  comforting  hand  on  Gale's  shoulder, 
for  the  fact  that  she  was  safe,  the  fact  of  knowing  some 
thing  relieved  him  immensely;  but  Stark's  next  words 
plunged  him  into  even  blacker  horror  than  the  trader 
felt. 

"You  won't  want  her  if  you  catch  her.  .  Runnion 
will  see  to  that." 

"Runnion!" 

"Yes,  I  sent  him  with  her." 

The  lover  cried  out  in  anguish  and  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands. 

"He's  wanted  her  for  along  time,  so  I  told  him  to  go 
ahead—;' 

None  of  them  noticed  Poleon  Doret,  who,  upon  this 
unnatural  confession,  alone  seemed  to  retain  sufficient 
control  to  doubt  and  to  reason.  He  was  thinking  hard, 
straightening  out  certain  facts,  and  trying  to  square 
this  horrible  statement  with  things  he  had  seen  and 
heard  to-night.  All  of  a  sudden  he  uttered  a  great 
cry,  and  bolted  out  into  the  darkness  unheeded  by 
Gale  and  Burrell,  who  stood  dazed  and  distraught  with 
a  fear  greater  than  that  which  was  growing  in  Stark  at 
sight  of  his  wounds. 

The  gambler  looked  down  at  his  injuries,  opened  and 
closed  the  fingers  of  his  hand  as  if  to  see  whether  he 
still  maintained  control  of  them,  then  cried  out  at  the 
two  helpless  men: 

"Well,  are  you  going  to  let  me  bleed  to  death?" 

It  brought  the  soldier  out  of  his  trance. 

"Why— no,  no!     We'll  get  a  doctor." 

But  Gale  touched  him  on  the  shoulder  and  said:1 
257 


THE    BARRIER 

-He's  too  weak  to  get  out,    Lock  him  In,  and  lei 

him  die  in  the  dark." 

Stark  cursed  affrightedly,  for  it  is  a  terrible  thing  to 
bleed  to  death  in  the  dark,  and  in  spite  of  himself  the 
Lieutenant  waveredc 

"I  can't  do  that,     I  promised." 

"  He  told  that  lie  to  my  girl,  He  gave  her  to  that 
hound,"  said  the  trader,  but  Burrell  shoved  him  through 
the  door. 

"No!  I  can't  do  that.'*  And  then  to  the  wounded 
man  he  said,  'Til  get  a  doctor,  but  God  have  mercy 
on  your  soul."  He  could  not  trust  himself  to  talk 
further  with  this  creature,  nor  be  near  him  any  longer^ 
for  though  he  had  a  slight  knowledge  of  surgery, 
he  would  sooner  have  touched  a  loathsome  serpent 
than  the  flesh  of  this  monstrous  man. 

He  pushed  Gale  ahead  of  him.  and  the  old  man  went 
like  a  driven  beast,  for  his  violence  had  wasted  itself, 
and  he  was  like  a  person  under  the  spell  of  a  strong 
drug.  At  the  doctor's  door  Burrell  stopped,, 

"I  never  thought  to  ask  you,"  he  said,  wearily;  "but 
you  must  be  hurt  ?  He  must  have  wounded  you  ?" 

"I  reckon  he  did — I  don't  know0"  Then  the  man's 
listless  voice  throbbed  out  achingly,  as  he  cried  in  de 
spair:  "She  believed  him,  boy!  She  believed  his  lies! 
That's  what  hurts."  Something  like  a  sob  caught  in 
his  throat,  and  he  staggered  away  under  the  weight 
of,  his  great  bereavement 


CHAPTER 

CTIB   LOVB   OP   POLEON   DORBTl 

the  girl  crouching  at  the  stern  of  Runuion'* 
boat  It  seemed  as  if  this  day  and  night  would 
never  end.  It  seemed  as  if  the  procession  of  natural 
events  must  have  ceased,  that  there  was  no  longer  any 
time,  foi  she  had  been  suffering  steadily  for  hours  and 
hours  without  end,  and  began  to  wonder  dreamily 
whether  she  had  not  skipped  a  day  in  her  reckoning 
between  the  time  when  she  first  heard  of  the  strike  on 
her  claim  and  this  present  moment  It  occurred  to 
her  that  she  was  a  rich  girl  now  in  her  own  right,  and 
she  smiled  her  crooked  smile,  as  she  reflected  that  the 
thing  she  had  longed  for  without  hope  of  attainment 
had  come  with  confusing  swiftness,  and  had  left  her 
unhappier  than  ever  .  .  . 

Would  the  day  never  come?  She  pulled  the  rugs 
up  closer  about  her  as  the  morning  chill  made  her 
shiver.  She  found  herself  keeping  mechanical  count 
with  the  sound  of  the  sweeps — they  must  be  making 
good  speed,  she  thought,  and  the  camp  must  be  miles 
bshind  now.  Had  it  been  earlier  in  the  season,  when 
the  river  ran  full  of  drift,  they  never  could  have  gone 
thus  in  the  dark,  but  the  water  was  low  and  the  chances 
of  collision  so  remote  as  to  render  blind  travel  safe. 
Even  yet  she  could  not  distinguish  her  oarsman,  ex 
cept  as  a  black  bulk,  for  it  had  been  a  lowering  night 

259 


THE    BARRIER 

and  the  approaching  dawn  failed  to  break  through  tha 
blanket  of  cloud  that  hung  above  the  great  valley. 
He  was  a  good  boatman,  however,  as  she  gathered  from 
the  tireless  regularity  of  his  strokes.  He  was  a  silent 
man,  too,  and  she  was  grateful  for  that.  She  snuggled 
down  into  her  blanket  and  tried  to  sleep,  but  she  only 
dozed  for  a  minute,  it  seemed,  to  find  her  eyes  fly  wide 
open  again.  So,  restless  and  tired  of  her  lonely  vigil, 
she  gave  a  premonitory  cough,  and  said  to  her  com 
panion: 

"You  must  be  tired  rowing  so  steadily?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  it,"  he  replied. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  she  sat  bolt  upright.  It 
couldn't  be — if  this  were  Runnion  he  would  have  spoken 
before!  She  ventured  again,  tremulously: 

"Have  you  any  idea  what  time  it  is?" 

"About  three  o'clock,  I  fancy." 

"Who  are  you?"     The  question  came  like  a  shot. 

"Don't  you  know?" 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Mr.  Runnion?" 

"I'm  rowing,"  he  answered,  carelessly. 

"Why  didn't  you  speak?"  A  vague  feeling  of  un 
easiness  came  over  her,  a  suspicion  .that  all  was  not 
right,  so  she  waited  for  him  to  explain,  and  when  he 
did  not,  she  repeated  her  question.  "What  made  you 
keep  still  so  long  ?  You  knew  who  7  was  ?" 

"Well,  it's  the  first  time  I  ever  took  you  on  a  mid 
night  row,  and  I  wanted  to  enjoy  it." 

The  mockery  in  his  voice  quickened  her  apprehension. 
Of  a  sudden  the  fear  of  being  misjudged  impelled  her 
to  end  this  flight  that  had  become  so  distasteful  in 
a  moment,  preferring  to  face  the  people  at  the  post 
rather  than  continue  her  journey  with  this  man. 

"I've  changed  my  mind,  Mr.  Runnion,"  she  said. 
260 


THE  LOVE  OP  POLfcON  DORET 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  down  to  the  Mission.     I  want  you 
to  take  me  back." 

"Can't  do  it,"  he  said;  "the  current  is  too  swift.0 

"Then  set  me  ashore  and  I'll  walk  back.  It  cant 
be  far  to  town." 

"Twenty-five  miles.  We've  been  out  about  three 
kours."  He  kept  on  rowing  steadily,  and  although 
the  distance  they  had  gone  frightened  her,  she  sum 
moned  her  courage  to  sav: 

"We  can  make  that  easily  enough.  Come,  run  in  to 
the  bank." 

He  ceased  rowing  and  let  the  boat  drift  with  dragging 
sweeps,  filled  his  pipe  and  lighted  it,  then  took  up  his 
oars  again  and  resumed  his  labors. 

"Please  do  as  I  ask  you,  Mr.  Runnion.  I've  decided 
I  don't  want  to  go  any  farther."  He  laughed,  and  the 
sound  aroused  her.  "Put  me  ashore  this  minute!"  she 
cried,  indignantly.  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"You've  got  a  fierce  temper,  haven't  you?" 

"Will  you  do  it  or  not?" 

When  he  made  no  answer,  except  to  continue  the 
maddening  monotony  of  his  movements,  she  was  seized 
with  a  rash  resolve  to  wrench  the  oars  out  of  his  hands, 
and  made  a  quick  motion  towards  him,  at  which  he 
shouted: 

"Sit  down!     Do  you  want  to  upset  us?" 

The  unstable  craft  lurched  and  dipped  dangerously, 
and,  realizing  the  futility  of  her  mad  impulse,  she  sank 
back  on  her  knees. 

"Put  me  ashore!" 

"No,"  he  said,  "not  till  I'm  ready.  Now,  keep  your 
•eat  or  we'll  both  drown;  this  ain't  a  ferry-boat."  Af 
ter  a  few  strokes,  he  added,  "We'll  never  get  along  to 
gether  unless  you  tame  that  temper." 

261 


THE    BARRIER 

"We're  not  going  to  get  along  together,  Mr.  Run. 
nion — only  as  far  as  the  Mission.  1  dare  say  you  can 
tolerate  me  until  then,  can  you  not?"  She  said  this 
bitingly. 

"Stark  told  me  to  board  the  first  boat  for  St.  Mi 
chael's,"  he  said,  disregarding  her  sarcasm,  "but  I've 
made  a  few  plans  of  my  own  the  last  hour  or  so." 

"St.  Michael's!  Mr.  Stark  told  you — why,  that's  im 
possible!  You  misunderstood  him.  He  told  you  to 
row  me  to  the  Mission.  I'm  going  to  Father  Barnum's 
house." 

"No,  you're  not,  and  I  didn't  misunderstand  him. 
He  wants  to  get  you  outside,  all  right,  but  I  reckon 
you'd  rather  go  as  Mrs.  Runnion  than  as  the  sweet 
heart  of  Ben  Stark." 

"Are  you  crazy?"  the  girl  cried.  "Mr.  Stark  kindly 
offered  to  help  me  reach  the  Father  at  his  Mission. 
I'm  nothing  to  him,  and  I'm  certainly  not  going  to  be 
anything  to  you.  If  I'd  known  you  were  going  to  row 
the  boat,  I  should  have  stayed  at  home,  because  I  de 
test  you." 

"You'll  get  over  that." 

"I'm  not  in  the  humor  for  jokes." 

He  rested  again  on  his  oars,  and  said,  with  delibera 
tion: 

"Stark  *  kindly  offered*  did  he?  Well,  whenever 
Ben  Stark  '  kindly '  offers  anything,  I'm  in  on  the  play. 
He's  had  his  eye  on  you  for  the  last  three  months,  and 
he  wants  you,  but  he  slipped  a  cog  when  he  gave  me  the 
oars.  You  needn't  be  afraid,  though,  I'm  going  to  do 
the  square  thing  by  you.  We'll  stop  in  at  the  Mission 
and  be  married,  and  then  we'll  see  whether  we  want 
to  go  to  St.  Michael's  or  not,  though  personally  Fin 
for  going  back  to  Flambeau." 

262 


THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET 

During  the  hours  while  he  had  waited  for  Necia  to 
discover  his  identity,  the  man's  mind  had  not  been  idle; 
he  had  determined  to  take  what  fortune  tossed  into 
his  lap.  Had  she  been  the  unknown,  unnoticed  half- 
breed  of  a  month  or  two  before,  he  would  not  have 
wasted  thought  upon  priests  or  vows,  but  now  that  a 
strange  fate  had  worked  a  change  in  her  before  the 
world,  he  accepted  it. 

The  girl's  beauty,  her  indifference,  the  mistaken  at 
titude  of  Stark  urged  him,  and,  strongest  of  all,  he  was 
drawn  by  his  cupidity,  for  she  would  be  very  rich,  so 
the  knowing  ones  said.  Doubtless  that  was  why  Stark 
wanted  her,  and,  being  a  man  who  acknowledged  no 
fidelity  to  his  kind  or  his  Creator,  Runnion  determined 
to  outwit  his  principal,  Doret,  Burrell,  and  all  the  rest. 
It  was  a  chance  to  win  much  at  the  risk  of  nothing, 
and  he  was  too  good  a  gambler  to  let  it  pass. 

With  his  brusque  declaration  Necia  realized  her 
position — that  she  was  a  weak,  lonely  girl,  just  come 
into  womanhood,  so  cursed  by  good  looks  that  men 
wanted  her,  so  stained  by  birth  that  they  would  not 
take  her  honestly;  realized  that  she  was  alone  with  a 
dissolute  creature  and  beyond  help,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  felt  the  meaning  of  fear. 

She  saw  what  a  frail  and  helpless  thing  she  was; 
nothing  about  her  was  great  save  her  soul,  and  that 
was  immeasurably  vexed  and  worried.  She  had  just 
lived  through  a  grief  that  had  made  her  generou3,  and 
now  she  gained  her  first  knowledge  of  the  man-animal's 
gross  selfishness. 

"You  are  absolutely  daft,"  she  said.  "You  can't 
force  me  to  marry  you." 

"I  ain't  going  to  force  you;  you'll  do  it  wi/lingly." 

"I'll  die  first.  I'll  call  the  first  man  we  see— Ft! 
18  263 


THE    BARRIER 

tell  Father  Barnum,  and  he'll  have  you  run  out  of  the 
country — it  would  only  take  a  word  from  me." 

"If  you  haven't  changed  your  mind  when  we  get  to 
his  place,  I'll  run  through  without  stopping;  but  there 
isn't  another  priest  between  there  and  St.  Mike's,  and 
by  the  time  we  get  to  the  mouth  of  the  river,  I  guess 
you'll  say  yes  to  most  anything.  However,  I'd  rather 
marry  you  at  Holy  Cross  if  you'll  consent,  and  I'm 
pretty  sure  you  will — when  you  think  it  over." 

"We  won't  discuss  it." 

"You  don't  understand  yet,"  he  continued,  slowly. 
"What  will  people  say  when  they  know  you  ran  away 
with  me." 

"I'll  tell  them  the  truth." 

"Huh!  I'm  too  well  known.  No  man  on  the  river 
frould  ever  have  you  after  that." 

"You — you — "  Her  voice  was  a-quiver  with  indig 
nation  and  loathing,  but  her  lips  could  not  frame  an 
epithet  fit  for  him.  He  continued  rowing  for  some 
time,  then  said: 

"Will  you  marry  me?" 

"No!  If  this  thing  is  ever  known,  Poleon  will  kiM 
you — or  father." 

For  a  third  time  he  rested  on  his  oars. 

"Now  that  we've  come  to  threats,  let  me  talk.  I 
offered  to  marry  you  and  do"  the  square  thing,  but  if 
you  don't  want  to,  I'll  pass  up  the  formality  and  take 
you  for  my  squaw,  the  same  as  your  father  took  Al- 
luna.  I  guess  you're  no  better  than  your  mother,  so 
your  old  man  can't  say  much  under  the  circumstances, 
and  if  he  don't  object,  Poleon  can't.  Just  remember, 
you're  alone  with  me  in  the  heart  of  a  wilderness,  and 
you've  got  to  make  a  choice  quick,  because  I'm  going 
ashore  and  make  some  breakfast  as  soon  as  it's  ligbl 

264 


THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET 

enough  to  choose  a  landing-place.  If  you  agree  to 
come  quietly  and  go  through  with  this  thing  like  a 
sensible  girl,  I'll  do  what's  right,  but  if  you  don't — 
then  I'll  do  what's  wrong,  and  maybe  you  won't  be 
so  damned  anxious  to  tell  your  friends  about  this  trip, 
or  spread  your  story  up  and  down  the  river.  Make  up 
your  mind  before  I  land." 

The  water  gurgled  at  the  bow  again,  and  the  row 
locks  squeaked.  Another  hour  and  then  another  pass 
ed  in  silence  before  the  girl  noted  that  she  no  longer 
seemed  to  float  through  abysmal  darkness,  but  that 
the  river  showed  in  muddy  grayness  just  over  the  gun 
wale.  She  saw  Runnion  more  clearly,  too,  and  made 
out  his  hateful  outlines,  though  for  all  else  she  be 
held  they  might  have  been  miles  out  upon  a  placid  sea, 
and  so  imperceptible  was  the  laggard  day's  approach 
that  she  could  not  measure  the  growing  light.  It  was 
a  desolate  dawn,  and  showed  no  glorious  gleams  of 
color.  There  was  no  rose -pink  glow,  no  merging  of 
a  thousand  tints,  no  final  burst  of  gleaming  gold;  the 
night  merely  faded  away,  changing  to  a  sickly  pallor 
that  grew  to  ashen  gray,  and  then  dissolved  the  low- 
hung,  distorted  shadows  a  quarter  of  a  mile  inland  on 
either  hand  into  a  forbidding  row  of  unbroken  forest 
backed  by  plain,  morass,  and  distant  hills  untipped  by 
slanting  rays.  Overhead  a  bleak  ruin  of  clouds  drifted; 
underneath  the  river  ran,  a  bilious  yellow.  The  whole 
country  so  far  as  the  eye  could  range  was  unmarred 
by  the  hand  of  man,  untracked  save  by  the  feet  of  the 
crafty  forest  people. 

She  saw  Runnion  gazing  over  his  shoulder  in  search 
of  a  shelving  beach  or  bar,  his  profile  showing  more 
debased  and  mean  than  she  had  ever  noticed  it  before. 
They  rounded  a  bend  where  the  left  bank  crumbled 

265 


THE    BARRIER 

before  the  untiring  teeth  of  the  river,  forming  a  bristling 
chevaux-de-frise  of  leaning,  fallen  firs  awash  in  the  cur 
rent.  The  short  side  of  the  curve,  the  one  nearest 
them,  protected  a  gravel  bar  that  made  down-stream 
to  a  dagger-like  point,  and  towards  this  Runnion  pro 
pelled  the  skiff.  The  girl's  heart  sank  and  she  felt 
her  limbs  grow  cold. 

The  mind  of  Poleon  Doret  worked  in  straight  lines. 
Moreover,  his  memory  was  good.  Stark's  statement, 
which  so  upset  Gale  and  the  Lieutenant,  had  a  some 
what  different  effect  upon  the  Frenchman,  for  certain 
facts  had  been  impressed  upon  his  subconsciousness 
which  did  not  entirely  gibe  with  the  gambler's  re 
marks,  and  yet  they  were  too  dimly  engraved  to  af 
ford  foundation  for  a  definite  theory.  What  he  did 
know  was  this,  that  he  doubted.  Why?  Because  cer 
tain  scraps  of  a  disjointed  conversation  recurred  to 
him,  a  few  words  which  he  had  overheard  in  Stark's 
saloon,  something  about  a  Peterborough  canoe  and  a 
woman.  He  knew  every  skiff  that  lay  along  the  water 
front,  and  of  a  sudden  he  decided  to  see  if  this  one  was 
where  it  had  been  at  dusk;  for  there  were  but  two 
modes  of  egress  from  Flambeau,  and  there  was  but  one 
canoe  of  this  type.  If  Necia  had  gone  up-river  on  the 
freighter,  pursuit  was  hopeless,  for  no  boatman  could 
make  headway  against  the  current;  but  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  cedar  craft  was  gone —  He  ran  out 
of  Stark's  house  and  down  to  the  river-bank,  then 
leaped  to  the  shingle  beneath.  It  was  just  one  chance, 
and  if  he  was  wrong,  no  matter;  the  others  would 
leave  on  the  next  up-river  steamer;  whereas,  if  his 
suspicion  proved  a  certainty,  if  Stark  had  lied  to  throw 
them  off  the  track,  and  Runnion  had  taken  her  down- 

266  « 


THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET 

stream — well,  Poleon  wished  no  one  to  hinder  him,  for 
he  would  travel  light. 

The  boat  was  gone!  He  searched  the  line  back 
ward,  but  it  was  not  there,  and  his  excitement  grew 
now,  likewise  his  haste.  Still  on  the  run,  he  stumbled 
up  to  the  trading-post  and  around  to  the  rear,  where, 
bottom  up,  lay  his  own  craft,  the  one  he  guarded  jealous 
ly,  a  birch  canoe,  frail  and  treacherous  for  any  but  a 
man  schooled  in  the  ways  of  swift  water  and  Indian 
tricks.  He  was  very  glad  now  that  he  had  not  told  the 
others  of  his  suspicions;  they  might  have  claimed  the 
right  to  go,  and  of  that  he  would  not  be  cheated.  He 
swung  the  shell  over  his  shoulders,  then  hurried  to  the 
bank  and  down  the  steep  trail  like  some  great,  mis 
shapen  turtle.  He  laid  it  carefully  in  the  whispering 
current,  then  stripped  himself  with  feverish  haste,  for 
the  driving  call  of  a  hot  pursuit  was  on  him,  and  al 
though  it  was  the  cold,  raw  hours  of  late  night,  he 
whipped  off  his  garments  until  he  was  bare  to  the  mid 
dle.  He  seized  his  paddle,  stepped  in,  then  knelt  amid 
ships  and  pushed  away.  The  birch -bark  answered 
him  like  a  living  thing,  leaping  and  dancing  beneath 
the  strokes  which  sprung  the  spruce  blade  and  boiled 
the  water  to  a  foam,  while  rippling,  rising  ridges  stood 
out  upon  his  back  and  arms  as  they  rose  and  fell, 
stretched  and  bent  and  straightened. 

A  half-luminous,  opaque  glow  was  over  the  waters, 
but  the  banks  quickly  dropped  away,  until  there  was 
nothing  to  guide  him  but  the  suck  of  the  current  and 
the  sight  of  the  dim-set  stars.  His  haste  now  became 
something  crying  that  lashed  him  fiercely,  for  he  seem 
ed  to  be  standing  still,  and  so  began  to  mutter  at  the 
crawling  stream  and  to  complain  of  his  thews,  which 
did  not  drive  him  fast  enough,  only  the  sound  he  made 


THE    BARRIER 

was  more  like  the  whine  of  a  hound  in  leash  or  a  woli 
that  runs  with  hot  nostrils  close  to  the  earth. 

Runnion  drove  his  Peterborough  towards  the  shore 
with  powerful  strokes,  and  ran  its  nose  up  on  the  gravel, 
rose,  stretched  himself,  and  dragged  it  farther  out, 
then  looked  down  at  Necia. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  yes  or  no?  Do  you  want  me  for 
a  husband  or  for  a  master  ?"  She  cowered  in  the  stern, 
a  pale,  fearful  creature,  finally  murmuring: 

"You — you  must  give  me  time." 

"Not  another  hour.  Here's  where  you  declare  your 
self;  and  remember,  I  don't  care  which  you  choose, 
only  you'd  better  be  sensible." 

She  cast  her  despairing  eyes  up  and  down  the  river, 
then  at  the  wilderness  on  either  shore;  but  it  was  as 
silent  and  unpeopled  as  if  it  had  been  created  that 
morning.  She  must  have  time;  she  would  temporize, 
pretending  to  yield,  and  then  betray  him  to  the  first 
comer;  a  promise  exacted  under  duress  would  not  be 
binding. 

"I'll  go  quietly,"  she  said,  in  a  faint  voice. 

"I  knew  you'd  see  that  I'm  acting  square.  Come! 
Get  the  cramp  out  of  yourself  while  I  make  a  pot  of 
coffee."  He  held  out  his  hand  to  assist  her,  and  she 
accepted  it,  but  stumbled  as  she  rose,  for  she  had  been 
crouched  in  one  position  for  several  hours,  and  her 
limbs  were  stiff.  He  caught  her  and  swung  her  ashore; 
then,  instead  of  putting  her  feet  to  the  ground,  he 
pressed  her  to  himself  roughly  and  kissed  her.  She 
gave  a  stifled  cry  and  fought  him  off,  but  he  laughed 
and  held  her  the  closer. 

"Ain't  I  good  for  one  kiss?  Say,  this  is  the  deuce 
of  an  engagement.  Come,  now — " 

268 


THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET 

"No,  no,  no!"  she  gasped,  writhing  like  a  wild  thing j 
but  he  crushed  his  lips  to  hers  again  and  then  let  hef 
go,  whereupon  she  drew  away  from  him  panting,  dis 
hevelled,  her  eyes  wide  and  filled  with  horror.  She 
scrubbed  her  lips  with  the  back  of  her  hand,  as  if  to 
erase  his  mark,  while  he  reached  into  the  canoe  and 
brought  forth  an  axe,  a  bundle  of  food,  and  a  coffee-pot; 
then,  still  chuckling,  he  gathered  a  few  sticks  of  drift 
wood  and  built  a  fire.  She  had  a  blind  instinct  to  flee, 
and  sought  for  a  means  of  escape,  but  they  were  well 
out  upon  the  bar  that  stretched  a  distance  of  three 
hundred  feet  to  the  wooded  bank;  on  one  side  of  the 
narrow  spit  was  the  scarcely  moving,  half-stagnant 
water  of  a  tiny  bay  or  eddy,  on  the  other,  the  swift, 
gliding  current  tugging  at  the  beached  canoe,  while 
the  outer  end  of  the  gravelled  ridge  dwindled  down  to 
nothing  and  disappeared  into  the  river.  At  sight  of 
the  canoe  a  thought  struck  her,  but  her  face  must  have 
shown  some  sign  of  it,  for  the  man  chanced  to  look  at 
the  moment,  and,  seeing  her  expression,  straightened 
himself,  then  gazed  about  searchingly.  Without  a 
word  he  stepped  to  the  boat,  and,  seizing  it,  dragged  it 
entirely  out  upon  the  bar,  where  her  strength  would 
not  be  equal  to  shoving  it  off  quickly,  and,  not  content 
with  this,  he  made  the  painter  fast,  then  went  back  to 
his  fire.  The  eagerness  died  out  of  her  face,  but  an 
instant  later,  when  he  turned  to  the  clearer  water  of 
the  eddy  to  fill  the  coffee-pot,  she  seized  her  chance  and 
sped  up  the  bar  towards  the  bank.  The  shingle  under 
foot  and  her  noisy  skirts  betrayed  her,  and  with  an 
oath  he  followed.  It  was  an  unequal  race,  and  he 
handled  her  with  rough,  strong  hands  when  he  over- 
tool:  her. 

"So!  You  lied  to  me!  Well,  I'm  through  with  this 
.269 


THE    BARRIER 

foolishness.  If  you'll  go  back  on  your  word  like  thift 
you'll  'bawl  me  out '  before  the  priest,  so  I'll  forget  my 
promise,  too,  and  you'll  be  glad  of  the  chance  to  marry 
me." 

"Let  me  go!"  she  panted.  "I'll  marry  you.  Yes, 
yes,  I'll  do  it,  only  don't  touch  me  now!" 

He  led  her  back  to  the  fire,  which  had  begun  to 
crackle.  She  was  so  weak  now  that  she  sank  upon  the 
stones  shivering. 

"That's  right!  Sit  down  and  behave  while  I  make 
you  something  hot  to  drink.  You're  all  in."  After 
a  time  he  continued,  as  he  busied  himself  about  his 
task:  "Say,  you  ought  to  be  glad  to  get  me;  I've 
got  a  lot  of  money,  or  I  will  have,  and  once  you're  Mrs. 
Runnion,  nobody  '11  ever  know  about  this  or  think  of 
you  as  a  squaw."  He  talked  to  her  while  he  waited 
for  the  water  to  boil,  his  assurance  robbing  her  of  hope, 
for  she  saw  he  was  stubborn  and  reckless,  determined 
to  override  her  will  as  well  as  to  conquer  her  body, 
while  under  his  creed,  the  creed  of  his  kind,  a  woman 
was  made  from  the  rib  of  man  and  for  his  service.  He 
•conveyed  it  to  her  plainly.  He  ruled  horses  with  a 
hard  hand,  he  drove  his  dog  teams  with  a  biting  lash, 
and  he  mastered  women  with  a  similar  lack  of  feeling 
or  consideration. 

He  was  still  talking  when  the  girl  sprang  to  her  feet 
and  sent  a  shrill  cry  out  over  the  river,  but  instantly 
he  was  up  and  upon  her,  his  hand  over  her  mouth,  while 
she  tore  at  it,  screaming  the  name  of  Poleon  Doret.  He 
silenced  her  to  a  smothered,  sobbing  mumble,  and 
turned  to  see,  far  out  on  the  bosom  of  the  great  soiled 
river,  a  man  in  a  bark  canoe.  The  craft  had  just  swung 
past  the  bend  above,  and  was  still  a  long  way  off — so  far 
away,  in  fact,  that  Necia's  signal  had  not  reached  it. 

270 


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THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET 

for  its  occupant  held  unwaveringly  to  the  swiftest  chan 
nel,  his  body  rising  and  falling  in  the  smooth,  unend 
ing  rhythm  of  a  master-boatman  under  great  haste, 
his  arms  up-flung  now  and  then,  as  the  paddle  glinted 
and  flashed  across  to  the  opposite  side. 

Runnion  glanced  about  hurriedly,  then  cursed  as  he 
saw  no  place  of  concealment.  The  Peterborough  stood 
out  upon  the  bar  conspicuously,  as  did  he  and  the  girl; 
but  the  chance  remained  that  this  man,  whoever  he 
was,  would  pass  by,  for  his  speed  was  great,  the  river 
a  mile  in  width,  and  the  bend  sharp.  Necia  had  cried 
Poleon's  name,  but  her  companion  saw  no  resemblance 
to  the  Frenchman  in  this  strange-looking  voyager;  in 
fact,  he  could  not  quite  make  out  what  was  peculiar 
about  the  man — perhaps  his  eyes  were  not  as  sharp  as 
hers — and  then  he  saw  that  the  boatman  was  naked 
to  the  waist.  By  now  he  was  drawing  opposite  them 
with  the  speed  of  a  hound.  The  girl,  gagged  and  held 
by  her  captor's  hands,  struggled  and  moaned  despair 
ingly,  and.  crouching  back  of  the  boat,  they  might  have 
escaped  discovery  in  the  gray  morning  light  had  it  not 
been  for  the  telltale  fire — a  tiny,  crackling  blaze  no 
larger  than  a  man's  hat.  It  betrayed  them.  The 
dancing  craft  upon  which  their  eyes  were  fixed  whip 
ped  about,  almost  leaping  from  the  water  at  one  stroke, 
then  came  towards  them,  now  nothing  but  a  narrow 
thing,  half  again  the  width  of  a  man's  body.  The  cur 
rent  carried  it  down  abreast  of  them,  then  past,  and 
Runnion  rose,  releasing  the  girl,  who  cried  out  with  all 
her  might  to  the  boatman.  He  made  no  sound  in 
reply,  but  drove  his  canoe  shoreward  with  quicker 
strokes.  It  was  evident  he  would  effect  his  landing 
mear  the  lower  end  of  the  spit,  for  now  he  was  within 
hearing  distance,  and  driving  closer  every  instant. 

371 


THE    BARRIER 

Necia  heard  the  gambler  call: 
"Sheer  off,  Doret!  You  can't  land  here!" 
She  saw  a  gun  in  Runnion's  hand,  and  a  terrible^ 
sickening  fear  swept  over  her,  for  he  was  slowly  walk* 
ing  down  the  spit,  keeping  abreast  of  the  canoe  as  it 
drifted.  She  could  see  exactly  what  would  happen: 
no  man  could  disembark  against  the  will  of  an  armed 
marksman,  and  if  Poleon  slackened  his  stroke,  or  stop 
ped  it  to  exchange  his  paddle  for  a  weapon,  the  current 
would  carry  him  past;  in  addition,  he  would  have  to 
fire  from  a  rocking  paper  shell  harried  by  a  boiling 
current,  whereas  the  other  man  stood  flat  upon  his 
feet. 

"Keep  away  or  I'll  fire!"  threatened  Runnion  again* 
and  she  screamed,  "Don't  try  it,  Poleon,  hell  kill  you!" 
At  her  words  Runnion  raised  his  weapon  and  fired. 
She  heard  the  woods  behind  reverberate  with  the  echoes 
like  a  sounding-board,  saw  the  white  spurt  of  smoka 
and  the  skitter  of  the  bullet  as  it  went  wide.  It  was  a 
long  shot,  and  had  been  fired  as  a  final  warning;  but 
Doret  made  no  outcry,  nor  did  he  cease  coming;  instead, 
hiv°  paddle  clove  the  water  with  the  same  steady  strokes 
that  took  every  ounce  of  effort  in  his  body.  Runnion 
threw  open  his  gun  and  replaced  the  spent  shell.  On 
came  the  careening,  crazy  craft  in  a  sidewise  drift,  and 
with  it  the  girl  saw  coming  a  terrible  tragedy.  She 
started  to  run  down  the  gravelled  ridge  behind  her 
enemy,  not  realizing  the  value  or  moment  of  her  action, 
nor  knowing  clearly  what  she  would  do ;  but  as  she  drew 
near  she  saw  Runnion  raise  his  gun  again,  and,  without 
thought  of  her  own  safety,  threw  herself  upon  him. 
Again  his  shot  went  wide  as  he  strove  to  hurl  her  off, 
but  his  former  taste  of  her  strength  was  nothing  to  this, 
now  that  she  fought  for  Poleon's  life.  Runnion  snarled 

272 


THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET 

angrily  and  thrust  her  away,  for  he  had  waited  till 
the  canoe  was  close. 

"Let  me  go,  you  devil!"  he  cried,  and  aimed  again; 
but  again  she  ran  at  him.  This  time,  however,  she  did 
not  pit  her  strength  against  his,  but  paused,  and  as  he 
undertook  to  fire  she  thrust  at  his  elbow,  then  dodged 
out  of  his  way.  Her  blow  was  crafty  and  well-timed, 
and  his  shot  went  wild.  Again  he  took  aim,  and 
again  she  destroyed  it  with  a  touch  and  danced  out 
of  his  reach.  She  was  nimble  and  light,  and  quick 
ened  now  by  a  cold  calculation  of  all  that  depended 
upon  her. 

Three  times  in  all  she  thwarted  Runnion,  while  the 
cunoe  drove  closer  every  instant.  On  the  fourth,  as 
she  dashed  at  him,  he  struck  to  be  rid  of  her,  cursing 
wickedly — struck  as  he  would  have  struck  at  a  man. 
Silently  she  crumpled  up  and  fell,  a  pitiful,  draggled, 
awkward  little  figure  sprawled  upon  the  rocks;  but 
the  delay  proved  fatal  to  him,  for,  though  the  canoe 
was  close  against  the  bank,  and  the  huge  man  in  it 
seemed  to  offer  a  mark  too  plain  to  be  missed,  he  was 
too  close  to  permit  careful  aim.  Runnion  heard  him 
giving  utterance  to  a  strange,  feral,  whining  sound,  as 
if  he  were  crying  like  a  fighting  boy;  then,  as  the 
gambler  raised  his  arm,  the  Canadian  lifted  himself  up 
on  the  bottom  of  the  canoe  until  he  stood  stretched  to 
his  full  height,  and  leaped.  As  Runnion  fired  he 
sprang  out  and  was  into  the  water  to  his  knees,  his 
backward  kick  whirling  the  craft  from  underneath 
him  out  into  the  current,  where  the  river  seized  it. 
He  had  risen  and  jumped  all  in  one  moment,  launching 
himself  at  the  shore  like  a  panther.  The  gun  roared 
again,  but  Poleon  came  up  and  on  with  the  rush  of  the 
great,  brown  grizzly  that  no  missile  can  stop,  Run- 

273 


THE    BARRIER 

nion's  weapon  blazed  in  his  face,  but  he  neither  felt 
nor  heeded  it,  for  his  bare  hands  were  upon  his  quarry, 
the  impact  of  his  body  hurling  the  other  from  his  feet, 
and  neither  of  them  knew  whether  any  or  all  of  the 
last  bullets  had  taken  effect.  Poleon  had  come  like  an 
arrow,  straight  for  his  mark  the  instant  he  glimpsed  itf 
an  insensate,  unreasoning,  raging  thing  that  no  weight 
of  lead  nor  length  of  blade  could  stop.  In  his  haste 
he  had  left  Flambeau  without  weapon  of  any  kind,  for 
in  his  mind  such  things  were  superfluous,  and  he  had 
never  fought  with  any  but  those  God  gave  him,  nor 
found  any  living  thing  that  his  hands  could  not  master. 
Therefore,  he  had  rushed  headlong  against  this  armed 
and  waiting  man,  reaching  for  him  ever  closer  and 
closer  till  the  burning  powder  stung  his  eyes.  They 
grappled  and  fought,  alone  and  unseen,  and  yet  it 
was  no  fight,  for  Runnion,  though  a  vigorous,  heavy- 
muscled  man,  was  beaten  down,  smothered,  and  crushed 
beneath  the  onslaught  of  this  great  naked  fellow,  who 
all  the  time  sobbed  and  whined  and  mewed  in  a  pant 
ing  fury. 

They  swung  half  across  the  spit  to  the  farther  side, 
where  they  fell  in  a  fantastic  convulsion,  slipping  and 
sliding  and  rolling  among  the  rocks  that  smote  and 
gouged  and  bruised  them.  The  gambler  fought  for 
his  life  against  the  naked  flesh  of  the  other,  against  the 
distorted  face  that  snapped  and  bit  like  the  muzzle 
of  a  wolf,  while  all  the  time  he  heard  that  fearful,  in 
articulate  note  of  blood-hunger  at  his  ear.  The  Cana 
dian's  clenched  hands  crushed  whatever  they  fell  upon 
as  if  mailed  with  metal;  the  fingers  were  like  tearing 
tongs  that  could  not  be  loosed.  It  was  a  frightful 
combat,  hideous  from  its  inequality,  like  the  battle  oi 
a  man  against  a  maddened  beast  whose  teeth  tore  and 

274 


THE  LOVE  OP  POLEON  DORET 

whose  claws  ripped,  whose  every  move  was  irresistible. 
And  so  it  was  over  shortly. 

Poleon  rose  and  ran  to  the  fallen  girl,  leaving  behind 
him  a  huddled  and  twisted  likeness  of  a  man.  He 
picked  her  up  tenderly,  moaning  and  crooning;  but  as 
her  limp  head  lolled  back,  throwing  her  pale,  blind 
features  up  to  the  heavens,  he  began  to  cry,  this  time 
like  a  woman.  Tears  fell  from  his  eyes,  burning  tears, 
the  agony  of  which  seared  his  soul.  He  laid  her  care 
fully  beside  the  water's  edge,  and,  holding  her  head  and 
shoulders  in  the  crook  of  his  left  arm,  he  wet  his  right 
hand  and  bathed  her  face,  crouching  over  her,  half 
nude,  dripping  with  the  sweat  of  his  great  labors,  a 
tender,  palpitating  figure  of  bronzed  muscle  and  sinew, 
with  all  his  fury  and  hate  replaced  by  apprehension 
and  pity.  The  short  moments  that  he  worked  with  her 
were  ages  to  him,  but  she  revived  beneath  his  minis 
trations,  and  her  first  frightened  look  of  consciousness 
was  changed  to  a  melting  smile. 

41 W- what  happened,  Poleon?  "she  said.  "I  was  afraid!" 

He  stood  up  to  his  full  height,  shaking,  and  weak  as 
the  water  that  dripped  from  him,  the  very  bones  in 
him  dissolved.  For  the  first  time  he  uttered  words. 

"T'ank  God,  ba  gosh!"  and  ran  his  hand  up  over 
his  wet  face. 

"Where  is  he?"  She  started  to  her  knees  affright- 
edly ;  then,  seeing  the  twisted,  sprawling  figure  beyond, 
began  to  shudder.  "He — he's  dead?" 

"I  don*  know,"  said  Poleon,  carelessly.  "You  feel 
it  purty  good  now,  eh,  w'at?" 

"Yes — I — he  struck  me!"  The  remembrance  of 
what  had  occurred  surged  over  her,  and  she  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands.  "Oh,  Poleon!  Poleon!  He 
was  a  dreadful  man." 

375 


THE    BARRIER 

*'He  don*  trouble  you  no  more." 

"He  tried— he—  Ugh!  I— I'm  glad  you  did  it!* 
She  broke  down,  trembling  at  her  escape,  until  her  self 
ishness  smote  her,  and  she  was  up  and  beside  him  on 
the  instant.  "Are  you  hurt?  Oh,  I  never  thought 
of  that.  You  must  be  wounded!" 

The  Frenchman  felt  himself  over,  and  looked  down 
at  his  limbs  for  the  first  time.  "No!  I  guess  not," 
he  said,  at  which  Necia  noticed  his  meagre  attire,  and 
simultaneously  he  became  conscious  of  it.  He  fell 
away  a  pace,  casting  his  eyes  over  the  river  for  his 
canoe,  which  was  now  a  speck  in  the  distance. 

"Ba  gosh!  I'm  hell  of  a  t'ing  for  lookin'  at,"  he 
said.  "I'm  paddle  hard  —  dat's  w'y.  Sacre*!  how  I 
sweat !"  He  hitched  nervously  at  the  band  of  his  over 
alls,  while  Necia  answered: 

"That's  all  right,  Poleon."  Then,  without  warning, 
her  face  froze  with  mingled  repulsion  and  wonder. 
''Look!  Look!"  she  whispered,  pointing  past  him. 

Runnion  was  moving  slowly,  crawling  painfully  into 
a  sitting  posture,  uplifting  a  terribly  mutilated  face, 
dazed  and  half  conscious,  groping  for  possession  of  his 
wits.  He  saw  them,  and  grimaced  frightfully,  cower 
ing  and  cringing. 

Poleon  felt  the  girl's  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  heard 
her  crying  in  a  hard,  sharp  voice: 

"He  needs  killing!     Put  him  away!" 

He  stared  down  at  his  gentle  Necia,  and  saw  the 
loathing  in  her  face  and  the  look  of  strange  ferocity 
as  she  met  his  eyes  boldly. 

"You  don't  know  what  he — what  he  did/*  she  said, 
through  her  shut  teeth.  "  He — "  But  the  man  waited 
to  hear  no  more. 

Runnion  saw  him  coming,  and  scrambled  frantically 
276 


THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET 

to  all -fours,  then  got  on  his  feet  and  staggered  down 
the  bar.  As  Poleon  overtook  him,  he  cried  out  pite- 
ously,  a  shrill  scream  of  terror,  and,  falling  to  his  knees, 
grovelled  and  debased  himself  like  a  foul  cripple  at 
fear  of  the  lash.  His  agony  dispelled  the  savage  taint 
of  Alluna's  aboriginal  training  in  Necia,  and  the  pure 
white  blood  of  her  ancestors  cried  out: 

"Poleon,  Poleon!  Not  that!"  She  hurried  after 
him  to  where  he  paused  above  the  wretch  waiting  for 
her.  "You  mustn't!"  she  said.  " That  would  be  mur 
der,  and — and — it's  all  over  now." 

The  Frenchman  looked  at  her  wonderingly,  not  com 
prehending  this  sudden  leniency. 

"Let  him  alone;  you've  nearly  killed  him;  that's 
enough."  Whereat  Runnion,  broken  in  body  and 
spirit,  began  to  beg  for  his  life. 

"Wat's  dat  you  say  jus'  now?"  Doret  asked  the 
girl.  "Was  dat  de  truth  for  sure  w'at  you  speak?" 

"Yes,  but  you've  done  your  work.  Don't  touch  him 
again." 

He  hesitated,  and  Runnion,  quick  to  observe  it,  add 
ed  his  entreaty  to  hers. 

"I'm  beaten,  Doret.  You  broke  me  to  pieces.  I 
need  help — I — I'm  hurt." 

"W'at  you  'spec'  I  do  wit*  'im  ?"  the  Canadian  asked, 
and  she  answered: 

"I  suppose  we'll  have  to  take  him  where  he  can  get 
assistance." 

"Dat  skiff  am'  carry  all  t'ree  of  us." 

"I'll  stay  here,"  groaned  the  frightened  man.  "I'll 
wait  for  a  steamer  to  pick  me  up,  but  for  God's  sake 
don't  touch  me  again!" 

Poleon  looked  him  over  carefully,  and  made  up  his 
tnind  that  the  man  was  more  injured  in  spirit  than  in 

277 


THE    BARRIER 

body,  for,  outside  of  his  battered  muscles,  he  showed 
no  fatal  symptoms.  Although  the  voyageur  was  slower 
to  anger  than  a  child,  a  grudge  never  died  in  him,  and 
his  simple,  self-taught  creed  knew  no  forgiveness  for 
such  men  as  Runnion,  cherished  no  mercy  for  preying 
men  or  beasts.  He  glanced  towards  the  wooded  shores 
a  stone's-throw  above,  then  back  at  the  coward  he  had 
beaten  and  whose  life  was  forfeit  under  the  code. 
There  was  a  queer  light  in  his  eyes. 

"Leave  him  here,  Poleon.  We'll  go  away,  you  and 
I,  in  the  canoe,  and  the  first  boat  will  pick  him  up. 
Come."  Necia  tugged  at  his  wrist  for  fear  she  might 
not  prevail ;  but  he  was  bent  on  brushing  away  a  hand 
ful  of  hungry  mosquitoes  which,  warmed  by  the  grow 
ing  day,  had  ventured  out  on  the  river.  His  face  be 
came  wrinkled  and  set. 

"Bien!"  he  grunted.  "We  lef  'im  here,  biccause 
dere  ain't  'nough  room  in  ie  batteau,  eh?  All  right! 
Dat's  good  t'ing;  but  he's  seeck  man,  so  mebbe  I  feex 
it  him  nice  place  for  stop  till  dem  boats  come." 

"Yes,  yes!  Leave  me  here.  I'll  make  it  through 
all  right,"  begged  Runnion. 

"Better  you  camp  yonder  on  de  point,  w'ere  you 
can  see  dose  steamboat  w'en  she  comes  'roun'  de  ben'. 
Dis  is  bad  place."  He  indicated  the  thicket,  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  above  which  ran  out  almost  to  the  cut  bank. 
"Come!  I  help  you  get  feex." 

Runnion  shrank  from  his  proffered  assistance  half 
fearfully,  but,  reassured,  allowed  the  Frenchman  to  help 
him  towards  the  shore. 

"We  tell  it  de  first  boat  'bout  you,  an*  dey  pick  you 
up.  You  wait  here,  Necia." 

The  girl  watched  her  rescuer  guide  Runnion  up  to 
the  level  of  the  woods,  then  disappear  with  him  in  tha 

278 


THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET 

firs,  and  was  relieved  to  see  the  two  emerge  upon  the 
river-bank  again  farther  on,  for  she  had  feared  for  an 
instant  that  Poleon  might  forget.  There  seemed  to 
be  no  danger,  however,  for  he  was  crashing  through 
the  brush  in  advance  of  the  other,  who  followed  labor 
iously.  Once  Runnion  gained  the  high  point,  he 
would  be  able  to  command  a  view  of  both  reaches 
of  the  river,  and  could  make  signals  to  attract  the 
first  steamboat  that  chanced  to  come  along.  With 
out  doubt  a  craft  of  some  sort  would  pass  from 
one  direction  or  the  other  by  to-morrow  at  latest, 
or,  if  not,  she  and  Poleon  could  send  back  succor  to 
him  from  the  first  habitation  they  encountered.  The 
two  men  disappeared  again,  and  her  fears  had  begun 
to  prey  on  her  a  second  time  when  she  beheld  the  big 
Canadian  returning.  He  was  hurrying  a  bit,  apparent 
ly  to  be  rid  of  the  mosquitoes  that  swarmed  about  him; 
and  she  marked  that,  in  addition  to  whipping  himself 
with  a  handful  of  blueberry  bushes,  he  wore  Runnion 's 
coat  to  protect  his  shoulders. 

"Woof!  Dose  skeeter  bug  is  hongry,"  he  cried. 
"Let's  we  pass  on  de  river  queeck." 

"You  didn't  touch  him  again?" 

"No,  no.     I'm  t'rough  wit'  'im." 

She  was  only  too  eager  to  be  away  from  the  spot, 
and  an  instant  later  they  were  afloat  in  the  Peter 
borough. 

"Dis  nice  baiteau,"  Poleon  remarked,  critically. 
"I  mak'  it  go  fas',"  and  began  to  row  swiftly,  seeking 
the  breeze  of  the  open  river  in  which  to  shake  off  the 
horde  of  stinging  pests  that  had  risen  with  the  sun. 
"I  come  'way  queeck  wit'out  t'inkin'  Txnit  gun  or 
skeeter  net  or  not'in'.  Runnion  she's  len'  me  dis  coat, 
so  mebbe  I  don'  look  so  worse  lak'  I  do  jus'  now,  eh  ?" 
'*  279 


THE    BARRIER 

''How  did  you  leave  him?     Is  he  badly  injured?" 

"No,  I  bus'  it  up  on  de  face  an'  de  rib,  but  she's 
feelin'  good  now.  Yes.  I'm  leave  'im  nice  place  for 
stop  an'  wait  on  de  steamboat — plaintee  spruce  bough 
for  set  on." 

She  began  to  shudder  again,  and,  sensitive  to  her 
every  motion,  he  asked,  solicitously,  if  she  were  sick, 
but  she  shook  her  head. 

"I — I — was  thinking  what — supposing  you  hadn't 
come?  Oh,  Poleon!  you  don't  know  what  you  saved 
me  from."  She  leaned  forward  and  laid  a  tiny,  grate 
ful  hand  on  the  huge  brown  paw  that  rested  on  his 
oar.  "I  wonder  if  I  can  ever  forget?" 

She  noted  that  they  were  running  with  the  current, 
and  inquired: 

"Where  are  we  going?" 

"Wai,  I  can't  pull  dis  boat  'gainst  dat  current,  so  I 
guess  we  pass  on  till  I  fin'  my  shirt,  den  bimebye  we 
pick  it  up  some  steamboat  an*  go  home." 

Five  miles  below  his  quick  eye  detected  his  half- 
submerged  "bark"  lodged  beneath  some  overhanging 
firs  which,  from  the  water's  action,  had  fallen  forward 
into  the  stream,  and  by  rare  good-fortune  it  was  still 
upright,  although  awash.  He  towed  it  to  the  next 
sand-bar,  where  he  wrung  out  and  donned  his  shirt, 
then  tipped  the  water  from  the  smaller  craft,  and,  mak 
ing  it  fast  astern  of  the  Peterborough,  set  out  again. 
Towards  noon  they  came  in  sight  of  a  little  stern- 
wheeled  craft  that  puffed  and  pattered  manfully 
against  the  sweeping  current,  hiding  behind  the  points 
and  bars  and  following  the  slackest  water. 

"It's  the  Mission  boat!"  cried  Necia.  "It's  the  Mis 
sion  boat!  Father  Barnum  will  be  aboard." 

She  waved  her  arms  madly  and  mingled  her  voice 
280 


THE  LOVE  OF  POLEON  DORET 

with  Poleon's  until  a  black-robed  figure  appeared  be* 
side  the  pilot-house. 

"Father  Barnum!"  she  screamed,  and,  recognizing 
her,  he  signalled  back. 

Soon  they  were  alongside,  and  a  pair  of  Si  wash  deck 
hands  lifted  Necia  aboard,  Doret  following  after,  the 
painter  of  the  Peterborough  in  his  teeth.  He  dragged 
both  canoes  out  of  the  boiling  tide,  and  laid  them  bot 
tom  up  on  the  forward  deck,  then  climbed  the  narrow 
little  stairs  to  find  Necia  in  the  arms  of  a  benignant, 
white-haired  priest,  the  best -beloved  man  on  the 
Yukon,  who  broke  away  from  the  girl  to  greet  the 
Frenchman,  his  kind  face  alight  with  astonishment. 

"What  is  all  this  I  hear?  Slowly,  Doret,  slowly! 
My  little  girl  is  talking  too  furiously  for  these  poor  old 
wits  to  follow.  I  can't  understand;  I  am  amazed. 
What  is  this  tale  ? 

Together  they  told  him,  while  his  blue  eyes  now 
opened  wide  with  wonder,  now  grew  soft  with  pity, 
then  blazed  with  indignation.  When  they  had  finished 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  Doret 's  shoulder. 

"My  son,  I  thank  God  for  your  good  body  and  your 
clean  heart.  You  saved  our  Necia,  and  you  will  be 
rewarded.  As  to  this — this — man  Runnion,  we  must 
find  him,  and  he  must  be  sent  out  of  the  country;  this 
new,  clean  land  of  ours  is  no  place  for  such  as  he 
You  will  be  our  pilot,  Poleon,  and  guide  us  to  th( 
spot." 

It  required  some  pressure  to  persuade  the  French 
man,  but  at  last  he  consented;  and  as  the  afternoon 
drew  to  a  close  the  little  steamboat  came  squattering 
and  wheezing  up  to  the  bar  where  Runnion  had  built 
his  fire  that  morning,  and  a  long,  shrill  blast  summoned 
him  from  the  point  above.  When  he  did  not  appear 

281 


THE    BARRIER 

the  priest  took  Poleon  and  his  round-faced,  silent  crew 
of  two  and  went  up  the  bank,  but  they  found  no  sign 
of  the  crippled  man,  only  a  few  rags,  a  trampled  patch 
of  brush  at  the  forest's  edge,  and — that  was  all.  The 
springy  moss  showed  no  trail;  the  thicket  gave  no 
answer  to  their  cries,  although  they  spent  an  hour 
in  a  scattered  search  and  sounded  the  steamboat's 
Whistle  again  and  again. 

"He's  try  for  walk  it  back  to  camp,"  said  Doret. 
"Mebbe  he  ain'  hurt  so  much,  after  all." 

"You  must  be  right,"  said  Father  Barnum.  "We 
will  keep  the  steamer  close  to  this  shore,  so  that  he  can 
hail  us  when  we  overtake  him." 

And  so  they  resumed  their  toilsome  trip;  but  mile 
after  mile  fell  behind  them,  and  still  no  voice  came 
from  the  woods,  no  figure  hailed  them.  Doret,  inscrut 
able  and  silent,  lounged  against  the  pilot-house  smok 
ing  innumerable  cigarettes,  which  he  rolled  from  squares 
of  newspaper,  his  keen  eyes  apparently  scanning  every 
foot  of  their  slow  way;  but  when  night  fell,  at  last, 
and  the  bank  faded  from  sight,  he  tossed  the  last  butt 
overboard,  smiled  grimly  into  the  darkness,  and  went 
below. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

RUNNION    FINDS   THE    SINGING   PBOPLB 

"K  TO  CREEK"  LEE  came  into  the  trading-post  on 

|\|  the  following  morning,  and  found  Gale  attend 
ing  store  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  occurred. 

"Say!  What's  this  about  you  and  Stark?  I  hear 
you  had  a  horrible  run-in,  and  that  you  split  him  up 
the  back  like  a  quail." 

"We  had  a  row,"  a<imity,d  the  trader.  "It's  been 
a  long  time  working  out,  and  last  night  it  came  to  a 
head." 

"Lord— ee!  And  to  think  of  Ben  Stark's  bein* 
licked!  Why,  the  whole  camp's  talkin'  about  it! 
They  say  he  emptied  two  six-shooters  at  you,  but  you 
kept  a-comin',  and  when  you  did  get  to  him  you  just 
carved  your  initials  on  him  like  he  was  a  bass-wood 
tree.  Say,  John,  he's  a  goner,  sure." 

"Do  you  mean  he's — passing  out?" 

"Oh  no!  I  reckon  he'll  get  well,  from  what  I  hear, 
though  he  won't  let  nobody  come  near  him  except  old 
Doc;  but  he's  lost  a  battle,  and  that  ends  him.  Don't 
you  savvy?  Whenever  a  killer  quits  second  best,  it 
breaks  his  hoodoo.  Why,  there's  been  men  laying  for 
him  these  twenty  years,  from  here  to  the  Rio  Grande, 
and  every  feller  he  ever  bested  will  hear  of  this  and 
begin  to  grease  his  holster;  then  the  first  shave-tail 
desperado  that  meets  him  will  spit  in  his  eye.  just  to 

2%-* 


THE    BARRIER 

make  a  name  for  himself.  No,  sir!  He's  a  spent  shell. 
He's  got  to  fight  all  his  battles  over  again,  and  this 
time  the  other  feller  will  open  the  ball.  Oh,  I've 
seen  it  happen  before.  You  killed  him  last  night,  just 
as  sure  as  if  you'd  hung  up  his  hide  to  dry,  and  he 
knows  it." 

"I'm  a  peaceable  man,"  said  Gale,  on  the  defensive. 
•'I  had  to  do  it." 

4 '  I  know!  I  know !  There  was  witnesses — this  dress 
maker  at  the  fort  seen  it,  so  I  hear." 

The  other  acquiesced  silently. 

"Well!  Well!  Ben  Stark  licked!  I  can't  get  over 
that.  It  must  'a'  been  somethin'  powerful  strong  to 
make  you  do  it,  John."  It  was  as  close  to  a  question 
as  the  miner  dared  come,  although  he  was  avid  with 
curiosity,  and,  like  the  entire  town,  was  in  a  fret  to 
know  what  lay  back  of  this  midnight  encounter,  con 
cerning  which  the  most  exaggerated  rumors  were  rife. 
These  stories  grew  the  more  grotesque  and  ridiculous 
the  longer  the  truth  remained  hidden,  for  Stark  could 
not  be  seen,  and  neither  Gale  nor  Burrell  would  speak. 
All  that  the  people  knew  was  that  one  lay  wounded 
to  death  behind  the  dumb  walls  of  his  cabin,  and  that 
the  other  had  brought  him  down.  When  the  old  man 
vouchsafed  no  more  than  a  nod  to  his  question,  the 
prospector  inquired: 

"Where's  Poleon?  I've  got  news  for  him  from  the 
creek." 

"I  don't  know;   he's  gone." 

"Back  soon?" 

"I  don't  know.     Why?" 

"His  laymen  have  give  up.  They've  cross-cut  his 
ground  and  the  pay  ain't  there,  so  they've  quit  work 
for  good." 

284 


RUNNION    FINDS    THE    SINGING    PEOPLE 

"He  drew  a  blank,  eh?" 

"  Worse  'n  that — three  of  them.  The  creek  is  spot- 
teder  than  a  leopard.  Runnion's  men,  for  instance, 
are  into  It  bigger  than  a  house,  while  Poleon's  people 
can't  raise  a  color.  I  call  it  tough  luck — yes,  worse 'n 
tough:  it's  hard-biled  and  pickled.  To  them  as  has 
shall  it  be  given,  and  to  them  as  hasn't  shall  be  took 
even  what  they  'ain't  got,  as  the  poet  says.  Look  at 
Necia!  She'll  be  richer  than  a  cream  puff.  Guess 
I'll  step  around  and  see  her." 

"She's  gone,"  said  the  trader,  wearily,  turning  his 
haggard  face  from  the  prospector. 

"Gone!     Where?" 

"Up-river  with  Runnion.  They  got  her  away  from 
me  last  night." 

"Sufferin'  snakes!"  ejaculated  Lee.  "So  that's 
why!"  Then  he  added,  simply,  "Let's  go  and  git  her, 
John." 

The  trader  looked  at  him  queerly. 

"Maybe  I  won't — on  the  first  boat!  I'm  eating  my 
heart  out  hour  by  hour  waiting — waiting — waiting  for 
some  kind  of  a  craft  to  come,  and  so  is  Burrell." 

"What's  he  got  to  do  with  it?"  said  the  one-eyed 
miner,  jealously.  ' '  Can't  you  and  me  bring  her  back  ?" 

"He'll  marry  her!  God,  won't  there  never  be  a 
boat!" 

For  the  hundredth  time  that  morning  he  went  to  the 
door  of  the  post  and  strained  his  eyes  down-stream. 

"Well,  well!  Them  two  goin'  to  be  married,"  said 
Lee.  "Stark  licked,  and  Necia  goin'  to  be  married — 
all  at  once.  I  hate  to  see  it,  John;  he  ain't  good 
enough;  she  could  'a'  done  a  heap  better.  There's  a 
lot  of  reg'lar  men  around  here,  and  she  could  'a'  had 
her  pick.  Of  course,  always  bein'  broke  like  a  dog  my- 

28* 


THE    BARRIER 

self,  I  'ain't  kept  up  my  personal  appearance  like  I'd 
ought,  but  I've  got  some  new  clothes  now,  and  you 
wouldn't  know  me.  I  bought  'em  off  a  tenderfoot  with 
cold  feet,  but  they're  the  goods,  and  you'd  see  a  big 
improvement  in  me." 

"He's  a  good  man,"  said  Gale.  "Better  than  you 
or  me,  and  he's  all  torn  up  over  this.  I  never  saw  a 
man  act  so.  When  he  learned  about  it  I  thought  he'd 
i  go  mad — he's  haunted  the  river-bank  ever  since,  raging 
about  for  some  means  of  following  her,  and  if  I  hadn't 
fairly  held  him  he'd  have  set  out  single-handed." 

"I'm  still  strong  in  the  belief  that  Necia  could  have 
bettered  her  hand  by  stayin'  out  awhile  longer,"  de 
clared  Lee,  stubbornly;  "but  if  she  wants  a  soldier, 
why,  we'll  get  one  for  her,  only  I'd  rather  have  got  her 
somethin'  real  good  and  pronounced  in  the  military 
line — like  an  agit ant-gen 'ral  or  a  walkin'  delegate." 

While  they  were  talking  Burrell  came  in,  and  "No 
Creek"  saw  that  the  night  had  affected  the  youth  even 
more  than  it  had  Gale,  or  at  least  he  showed  the  marks 
more  plainly,  for  his  face  was  drawn,  his  eyes  were 
sunken  as  if  from  hunger,  and  his  whole  body  seemed 
to  have  fallen  away  till  his  uniform  hung  upon  him 
loose,  unkempt,  and  careless.  It  was  as  if  hope  had 
been  a  thing  of  avoirdupois,  and  when  taken  away  had 
caused  a  shrinkage.  He  had  interrogated  Stark  again 
after  getting  the  doctor,  but  the  man  had  only  cursed 
at  him,  declaring  that  his  daughter  was  out  of  reach, 
where  he  would  take  care  to  keep  her,  and  torturing 
the  lover  anew  by  linking  Runnion's  name  with  the 
girl's  till  the  young  man  fled  from  the  sound  of  the 
monster's  voice  back  to  his  own  quarters.  He  strove 
to  keep  the  image  of  Runnion  out  of  his  mind,  for  his 
reason  could  not  endure  it.  At  such  times  he  cried 

286 


RUNNION    FINDS    THE    SINGING    PEOPLE 

aloud,  cursing  in  a  way  that  was  utterly  strange  to  a 
God-fearing  man,  only  to  break  off  and  rush  to  the 
other  extreme,  praying  blindly,  beseechingly,  for  the 
girl's  safe-keeping.  At  intervals  an  unholy  impulse 
almost  drove  him  to  Stark's  cabin  to  finish  the  work 
Gale  had  begun,  to  do  it  coldly  as  a  matter  of  justice, 
for  was  he  not  the  one  who  had  put  Necia  into  the 
hands  of  that  ruffian  ?  Greeting  Lee  mechanically,  he 
said  to  Gale: 

"I  can't  wait  much  longer,"  and  sank  wearily  into  a 
seat.  Almost  the  next  instant  he  was  on  his  feet  again, 
saying  to  the  trader,  as  he  had  said  it  a  score  of  times 
already:  "Runnion  comes  to  me,  Gale!  You  under 
stand  he's  mine,  don't  you?" 

The  old  man  nodded.     "Yes!     You  can  take  him." 

"Well,  who  do  /  git?"  asked  Lee. 

"You  can't  come  along,"  the  trader  said.  "We 
may  have  to  follow  the  hound  clean  to  the  States. 
Think  of  your  mine — " 

"To  hell  with  the  mine!"  exploded  the  shaggy  pros 
pector.  "I  reckon  I'm  kind  of  a  daddy  to  your  gal, 
and  I'm  goin'  to  be  in  at  the  finish." 

Back  and  forth  paced  the  Lieutenant  restlessly, 
pausing  every  now  and  then  to  peer  down  the  river. 
Suddenly  he  uttered  a  cry,  and  with  a  bound  Gale  was 
beside  him,  Lee  at  his  shoulder. 

"Look!  Over  the  point!  Down  yonder!  I  saw 
smoke!" 

The  three  stared  at  the  distant  forest  fringe  that 
masked  the  bend  of  the  river  until  their  eyes  ached, 
and  the  dark-green  grew  black  and  wavered  indis 
tinctly. 

"You're  tired,  my  boy,"  said  Gale. 

"Wait!" 

287 


THE    BARRIER 

They  obeyed,  and  finally  over  the  tree-tops  saw  a 
faint  streamer  of  black. 

"It  is!  It  is!"  cried  the  soldier.  "I'm  going  for 
my  war  bag."  And  before  the  steamboat  had  hove 
into  sight  he  was  back  with  his  scanty  bundle  of 
baggage,  behaving  like  one  daft,  talking  and  laughing 
and  running  here  and  there.  Lee  watched  him  closely, 
then  went  behind  the  bar  and  poured  out  a  stiff  glass 
of  whiskey,  which  he  made  Burrell  drink.  To  Gale  he 
whispered,  a  moment  later: 

"Keep  your  eye  on  him,  John — he'll  go  mad  at  this 
rate." 

They  waited,  it  seemed  interminably,  until  at  last  a 
white  hull  slowly  rounded  the  point,  then  shaped  a 
course  across  the  current  towards  the  other  bank, 
where  the  water  was  less  swift.  As  it  came  fully  into 
sight,  Gale  swore  aloud  in  despair: 

"It's  the  Mission  boat!" 

"Well,  what  of  that?"  said  Burrell.  "We'll  hire 
it— buy  it— take  it!" 

"It's  no  use;  she  ain't  got  but  three  dog-power  to 
her  engines,"  Lee  explained.  "She's  a  down-river  boat 
—has  to  run  with  the  current  to  move." 

"We  can't  use  her,"  Gale  gave  in,  reluctantly.  "  She'd 
only  lose  time  for  us.  We've  got  to  wait  for  one  of 
the  A.  C.  boats." 

"Wait!"  cried  Burrell.  "Good  God!  we've  done 
nothing  but  wait,  wait,  WAIT!  Let's  do  something!" 

"You  go  back  yonder  and  set  down,"  commanded 
Lee.  "We'll  have  a  boat  before  long." 

The  arrival  of  the  tiny  Mission  steamer  was  never  of 
sufficient  importance  to  draw  a  crowd  to  the  river- 
bank,  so  the  impatient  men  at  the  post  relaxed  interest 
in  her  as  she  came  creeping  up  abreast  of  the  town.  It 

288 


RUNNION    FINDS    THE    SINGING    PEOPLE 

was  little  Johnny  Gale  who  first  saw  Necia  and  Poleon 
on  board,  for  he  had  recognized  Father  Barnum's  craft 
at  a  distance,  and  stationed  himself  at  the  bank  hand- 
in-hand  with  Molly  to  bid  the  good,  kind  old  man 
welcome. 

The  men  inside  the  house  did  not  hear  the  boy  cry 
ing  Necia's  name,  for  his  voice  was  small,  and  they  had 
gone  to  the  rear  of  the  store* 

"Understand!  You  leave  Runnion  to  me,"  Burrell 
Was  saying.  "No  man  shall  lay  hands  on  him  except 
me — "  His  voice  trailed  away;  he  rose  slowly  to  his 
feet,  a  strange  light  on  his  face.  The  others  turned  to 
see  what  sight  had  drawn  his  eyes.  In  the  opening, 
all  splendid  with  the  golden  sunlight,  stood  Necia  and 
Poleon  Doret,  who  had  her  by  the  hand — and  she  was 
smiling! 

Gale  uttered  a  great  cry  and  went  to  meet  them, 
but  the  soldier  could  move  nothing  save  his  lips,  and 
stood  dazed  and  disbelieving.  He  saw  them  dimly 
coming  towards  him,  and  heard  Poleon 's  voice  as  if  at 
a  great  distance,  saw  that  the  Frenchman's  eyes  were 
upon  him,  and  that  his  words  were  directed  to  him. 

"I  bring  her  back  to  you,  M'sieuM" 

Doret  laid  Necia's  hand  in  that  of  her  lover,  and 
Burrell  saw  her  smiling  shyly  up  at  him.  Something 
gripped  him  chokingly,  and  he  could  utter  no  sound. 
There  was  nothing  to  say — she  was  here,  safe,  smiling, 
that  was  all.  And  the  girl,  beholding  the  glory  in  his 
eyes,  understood. 

Gale  caught  her  away  from  him  then,  and  buried  her 
in  his  arms. 

A  woman  came  running  into  the  store,  and,  seeing 
the  group,  paused  at  the  door  —  a  shapeless,  silent, 
shawled  figure  in  silhouette  against  the  day.  The 

289 


THE    BARRIER 

trader  brought  the  girl  to  her  foster-mother,  who  began 
to  talk  in  her  own  tongue  with  a  rapidity  none  of  them 
had  ever  heard  before,  her  voice  as  tender  as  some  wild 
bird's  song;  then  the  two  women  went  away  together 
around  the  store  into  the  house.  Poleon  had  told 
Necia  all  the  amazing  story  that  had  come  to  him  that 
direful  night,  all  that  he  had  overheard,  all  that  he 
knew,  and  much  that  he  guessed. 

The  priest  came  into  the  store  shortly,  and  the  men 
fell  upon  him  for  information,  for  nothing  was  to  be 
gained  from  Poleon,  who  seemed  strangely  fagged  and 
weary,  and  who  had  said  but  little. 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!"  laughed  Father  Barnum.  "I'll  tell 
you  all  I  know,  of  course,  but  first  I  must  meet  Lieu 
tenant  Burrell  and  take  him  by  the  hand." 

The  story  did  not  lose  in  his  telling,  particularly 
when  he  came  to  describe  the  fight  on  the  gravel  bar 
which  no  man  had  seen,  and  of  which  Poleon  had  told 
him  little ;  but  the  good  priest  was  of  a  militant  turn,  and 
his  blue  eyes  glittered  and  flashed  like  an  old  crusader's. 

"It  was  a  wondrous  combat,"  he  declared,  with  all 
the  spirit  of  a  spectator,  "for  Poleon  advanced  bare 
handed  and  beat  him  down  even  as  the  man  fired  into 
his  face.  It  is  due  to  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God 
that  he  was  spared  a  single  wound  from  this  desperado 
— a  miracle  vouchsafed  because  of  his  clean  heart  and 
his  righteous  cause." 

"But  where  is  Runnion?"  broke  in  Burrell. 

"Nursing  his  injuries  at  some  wood-cutter's  camp, 
no  doubt;  but  God  be  praised  for  that  double  spirit 
of  generosity  and  forgiveness  which  prompted  our 
Poleon  to  spare  the  wretch.  No  finer  thing  have  I 
known  in  all  my  life,  Doret,  even  though  you  have 
ever  been  an  ungodly  fellow." 

990 


RUNNION    FINDS    THE    SINGING    PEOPLE 

The  Frenchman  moved  uneasily. 

"Wai,  I  don*  know;  he  ain'  fight  so  damf  hard." 

"You  couldn't  find  no  trace  of  him  ?"  said  Lee. 

"No  trace  whatever,"  Father  Barnum  replied;  "but 
he  will  surely  reach  some  place  of  refuge  where  we  can 
pick  him  up,  for  the  days  are  still  mild  and  the  woods 
full  of  berries,  and,  as  you  know,  the  streams  overflow 
with  salmon,  which  he  can  kill  with  a  stick.  Why, 
a  man  might  live  a  fortnight  without  inconvenience!" 

"I'll  be  on  the  lookout  for  him,"  said  the  Lieutenant, 
grimly.  "To-night  I'll  send  Thomas  and  a  couple  of 
men  down  the  river." 

When  the  voluble  old  priest  had  at  last  exhausted 
his  narrative  he  requested  of  Burrell  the  privilege  of 
a  few  words,  and  drew  him  apart  from  the  others.  His 
face  was  shrewdly  wrinkled  and  warm  with  under 
standing. 

"  I  had  a  long  conversation  with  my  little  girl,  for  she 
is  like  a  daughter  to  me,  and  I  discovered  the  depth  of 
her  love  for  you.  Do  you  think  you  are  worthy  of 
her?" 

"No." 

"Do  you  love  her  as  much  as  you  should?" 

"As  much  as  I  can.  They  don't  make  words  or 
numbers  big  enough  to  tell  you  how  dear  she  is  to  me." 

"Then  why  delay?  To-morrow  I  leave  again,  and 
one  never  knows  what  a  day  may  bring  forth." 

"But  Stark?"  the  young  man  cried.  "He's  her 
father,  you  know;  he's  like  a  madman,  and  she's  still 
under  age." 

"I  know  very  little  of  law  outside  of  the  Church," 
the  Father  observed,  "but,  as  I  understand  it,  if  she 
marries  before  he  forbids  her,  the  law  will  hold  him 
powerless.  Now,  he  has  never  made  himself  known  to 

391 


THE    BARRIER 

her,  he  has  never  forbidden  her  anything;  and  although 
my  conclusion  may  not  be  correct,  1  believe  it  is,  and 
you  have  a  chance  if  you  make  haste.  At  your  age, 
my  boy,  I  never  needed  a  spur," 

"A  spur?     Good  Lord!    I'm  from  Kentucky." 

"Once  she  is  yours  before  God,  your  hold  will  be 
stronger  in  the  eyes  of  men.  If  I  am  wrong,  and  he 
takes  her  from  you — well,  may  some  other  priest  re- 
wed  you  two — I  sha'n't!" 

"Don't  worry,*'  laughed  Burrell,  ablaze  at  the 
thought.  "You're  the  only  preacher  who'll  kiss  my 
bride,  for  I'm  a  jealous  man,  and  all  the  Starks  and 
all  the  fathers  in  the  world  won't  get  her  away  from 
me.  Do  you  think  she'll  do  it?" 

44  A  woman  in  love  will  do  anything," 

Burrell  seized  the  little  man  by  the  hand,  **If  I  had 
known  more  law  you  needn't  have  given  me  this  hint." 

"I  must  go  now  to  this  Stark,"  said  the  Father; 
"he  may  need  me.  But  first  I  shall  talk  with  Necia, 
Poor  child,  she  is  in  a  difficult  position,  standing  be 
tween  the  love  of  John  Gale  and  the  loyalty  she  owes 
her  father.  I — I  fear  I  cannot  counsel  her  as  well  as 
I  ought,  for  I  am  very  weak  and  human,  You  had 
better  come  with  me ;  perhaps  the  plea  of  a  lover  may 
have  more  weight  than  the  voice  of  reason."  As  they 
started  towards  the  house,  he  continued,  energetically: 
"Young  man,  I'm  beginning  to  live  once  more.  Do 
you  know,  sometimes  I  think  I  was  not  designed  for 
this  vocation,  and,  just  between  you  and  me,  there  was 
a  day  when — "  He  paused  and  coughed  a  trifle,  then 
said,  sharply,  "Well,  what  are  you  waiting  for?" 

Together  they  went  into  the  trader's  house. 

Back  in  the  store  there  was  silence  aiter  the  priest 
and  the  soldier  went  out,  which  Gale  broke  at  last: 

292 


RUNNION    FINDS    THE    SINGING    PEOPLE 

"This  forgiveness  talk  is  all  right,  I  suppose — but 
/  want  Runmonf" 

"We'll  git  him,  too,"  growled  Lee,  at  which  Poleon 
uttered  a  curt  exclamation: 

"No!" 

"Why  not?"  said  the  miner. 

"Wai,"  the  Canadian  drawled,  slowly,  then  paused 
to  light  the  cigarette  he  had  rolled  in  a  bit  of  wrapping- 
paper,  inhaled  the  smoke  deeply  to  the  bottom  of  his 
lungs,  held  it  there  a  moment,  and  blew  it  out  through 
mouth  and  nostrils  before  adding,  "you'll  jus'  be 
wastin'tam*!" 

Gale  looked  up  from  beneath  his  thatch  of  brow,  and 
asked,  quietly: 

"Why?" 

"You  "member — story  I  tol'  you  wan  day,  two,  free 
mont'  ago,"  Polecn  remarked,  with  apparent  evasion, 
'"bout  Johnny  Platt  w'at  I  ketch  on  de  Porcupine  all 
et  up  by  skeeter-bugs  ?" 

"I  do,"  answered  Gale. 

"Wai,"  —  he  met  their  eyes  squarely,  then  drew 
another  long  breath  from  his  cigarette  —  "I'm  jus' 
hopin'  nobody  don'  pick  it  up  dis  Runnion  feller  de 
same  way.  Mebbe  dey  fin*  hees  han's  tie'  behin*  'im 
wit*  piece  of  hees  shirt — " 

"Good  God!"  cried  the  trader,  starting  to  his  feet. 
"You— you— " 

" — 01  course,  I'm  jus'  s'posin'.  He  was  feel  purty 
good  w'en  I  lef '.  He  was  feel  so  good  I  tak'  hees  coat  for 
keepin'  off  dem  bugs  from  me,  biccause  I  lef  it  my 
own  shirt  on  de  canoe.  He's  nice  feller  dat  way;  he 
give  up  easy.  Ba  gosh!  I  never  see  worse  place  for 
skeeters!" 

Gale  fell  silent,  and  "No  Creek"  Lee  began  to  swear 
293 


THE    BARRIER 

in  little,  useless,  ineffective  oaths,  which  were  but  two 
ways  of  showing  similar  emotions.  Then  the  former 
stepped  up  and  laid  a  big  hand  upon  Poleon's  shoulder. 
"That  saves  us  quite  a  trip,"  he  said,  but  "No 
Creek  "  Lee  continued  to  swear  softly, 

It  seemed  that  Poleon's  wish  was  to  be  gratified, 
for  no  news  of  the  missing  man  came  through  in  the 
days  that  followed.  Only  at  a  fishing  village  far  down 
the  river,  where  a  few  native  families  had  staked  their 
nets  and  weirs  for  salmon,  a  hunter  told  a  strange  tale 
to  his  brothers — a  tale  of  the  white  man's  idiosyncrasies. 
In  sooth,  they  were  a  strange  people,  he  observed,  sur 
passing  wise  in  many  things,  yet  ignorant  and  childish 
in  all  others,  else  why  should  a  half-naked  man  go 
wandering  idly  through  the  thickets  holding  a  knotted 
rag  behind  his  back,  and  that  when  the  glades  wer<j 
dense  and  the  moss-chinks  filled  with  the  singing  peo 
ple  who  lived  for  blood?  The  elders  of  the  village 
nodded  their  heads  sagely,  and  commended  the  hunter 
for  holding  aloof  from  the  inert  body,  for  the  foolish 
ness  of  this  man  was  past  belief,  and — well,  his  people 
were  swift  and  cruel  in  their  vengeance,  and  sometimes 
doubted  an  Indian's  word,  wherefore  it  were  best  to 
pay  no  heed  to  their  ways  and  say  nothing.  But  they 
continued  to  wonder  why. 

Father  Barnum  found  the  three  still  talkir  g  in  the 
store  when  he  had  finished  an  hour's  counsel  with 
Necia,  so  came  straight  to  the  point.  It  was  work  that 
delighted  his  soul,  for  he  loved  the  girl,  and  had  formed 
a  strong  admiration  for  Burrell.  Two  of  them  took 
his  announcement  quietly,  the  other  cried  out  strenu 
ous  objections.  It  was  the  one-eyed  miner. 

294 


RUNNION    FINDS    THE    SINGING    PEOPLE 

"Right  away!  Not  on  your  life!  It's  too  onex-> 
pected.  You've  got  to  hold  'em  apart  for  an  hour,  any 
how,  till  I  get  dressed."  He  slid  down  from  his  seat 
upon  the  counter.  "What  do  you  reckon  I  got  all 
them  clothes  for?" 

"Come  as  you  are,"  urged  the  Father,  but  Lee  fought 
his  point  desperately. 

44  I'll  bust  it  up  if  you  don't  gimme  time.  What's  an 
hour  or  two  when  they've  got  a  life  sentence  comin'  to 
'em.  Dammit,  you  jest  ought  to  see  them  clothes !" 
And  by  very  force  of  his  vociferations  he  succeeded  in 
exacting  the  promise  of  a  brief  stay  in  the  proceedings 
before  he  bolted  out,  the  rags  of  his  yellow  mackinaw 
flapping  excitedly. 

The  priest  returned  to  Necia,  learing  the  trader  and 
Poleon  alone. 

"I  s'pose  it's  best,"  said  the  former. 

"Yes!" 

"Beats  the  deuce,  though,  how  things  work  out, 
don't  it  ?" 

"I'm  glad  for  see  dis  day,"  said  tht  Frenchman. 
"He's  good  man,  an*  he  ain'  never  goin'  to  hurt  her 
none."  He  paused.  "Dere's  jus*  wan  t'ing  I  want  for 
ask  it  of  you,  John — you  'member  dat  day  we  stop  on 
de  birch  grove,  an'  you  spik  'bout  her  an'  tol'  me  dose 
story  'bout  her  moder  ?  Wai,  I  was  dreamin'  dat  tarn',  so 
I'm  goin'  ask  it  you  now  don'  never  tell  her  w'at  I  said." 

"Doesn't  she  know,  my  boy?" 

"No;  I  ain'  never  spoke  'bout  love.  She  t'inks 
I'm  broder  wit*  her,  an* — dat's  w'at  I  am,  ba  Gar!" 
He  could  not  hold  his  voice  even — it  broke  with  him; 
but  he  avoided  the  old  man's  gaze.  Gale  took  him  by 
the  shoulders. 

"There  ain't  nothing  so  cruel  in  the  world  as  a  gentle 
ao  295 


THE    BARRIER 

woman,"  said  he;  "but  she  wouldn't  hurt  you  for  all 
the  world,  Poleon;  only  the  blaze  of  this  other  thing 
has  blinded  her.  She  can't  see  nothing  for  the  light  of 
this  new  love  of  hers." 

"I  know!  Dat's  w'y — nobody  onderstan's  but  you 
an' me— " 

Gale  looked  out  through  the  open  door,  past  the  sun 
lit  river  which  came  from  a  land  of  mystery  and  van 
ished  into  a  valley  of  forgetfulness,  past  the  forest  and 
the  hills,  in  his  deep-set  eyes  the  light  of  a  wondrous 
love  that  had  lived  with  him  these  many  weary  years, 
and  said: 

"Nobody  else  can  understand  but  me — I  know  how 
it  is.  I  had  even  a  harder  thing  to  bear,  for  you'll 
know  she's  happy  at  least,  while  I — "  His  voice 
trembled,  but,  after  a  pause,  he  continued:  "They 
neither  of  them  understand  what  you've  done  for  them, 
for  it  was  you  that  brought  her  back;  but  some  time 
they'll  learn  how  great  their  debt  is  and  thank  you. 
It  '11  take  them  years  and  years,  however,  and  when 
they  do  they'll  tell  their  babes  of  you,  Poleon,  so  that 
your  name  will  never  die.  I  loved  her  mother,  but  I 
don't  think  I  could  have  done  what  you  did." 

"She's  purty  hard  t'ing,  for  sure,  but  I  ain'  t'ink 
*bout  Poleon  Doret  none  w'en  I'm  doin*  it.  No,  I'm 
t'ink  'bout  her  all  de  tarn'.  She's  HI'  gal,  an'  I'm  beeg, 
strong  feller  w'at  don'  matter  much  an'  w'at  ain'  know 
much — 'cept  singin',  an'  lovin'  her.  I'm  see  for  sure 
now  dat  I  ain'  fit  for  her — I'm  beeg,  rough,  fightin* 
feller  w'at  can't  read,  an'  she's  de  beam  of  sunlight 
w'at  blin'  my  eyes." 

"If  I  was  a  fool  I'd  say  you'd  forget  in  time,  but 
I've  lived  my  life  in  the  open,  and  I  know  you  won't, 
I  didn't." 

296 


RUNNION    FINDS    THE    SINGING    PEOPLE 

"I  don*  want  to  forget,*'  the  brown  man  cried,  hur 
riedly.  "Le  bon  Dieu  would  not  let  me  forget — it's 
all  I've  got  to  keep  wit'  me  w'en  I'm  lookin'  for  my 
'New  Countree.'  " 

"You're  not  goin*  to  look  for  that  'New  Country' 
any  more,"  Gale  replied. 

"To-day,"  said  the  other,  quietly. 

"No." 

"To-day!  Dis  afternoon!  De  blood  in  me  is  callin' 
for  travel,  John.  I'm  livin'  here  on  dis  place  five 
year  dis  fall,  an'  dat's  long  tarn'  for  voyageur.  I'm 
hongry  for  hear  de  axe  in  de  woods  an'  de  moose  blow 
at  sundown.  I  want  for  see  the  camp-fire  t 'rough  de 
brush  w'en  I  come  from  trap  de  fox  an'  dem  little  wild 
fellers.  I  want  to  smell  smoke  in  de  dusk.  My  work 
she's  finish  here,  so  I'm  paddle  away  to-day,  an'  I'll 
fin'  dat  place  dis  tarn',  for  sure — she's  over  dere."  He 
raised  his  long  arm  and  pointed  to  the  dim  mountains 
that  hid  the  valley  of  the  Koyukuk,  the  valley  that 
called  good  men  and  strong,  year  after  year,  and  took 
them  to  itself,  while  in  his  face  the  trader  saw  the  hun 
ger  of  his  race,  the  unslaked  longing  for  the  wilder 
ness,  the  driving  desire  that  led  them  ever  North  and 
West,  and,  seeing  it,  he  knew  the  man  would  go. 

"Have  you  heard  the  news  from  the  creeks?" 

"No."  " 

"Your  claims  are  blanks;   your  men  have  quit." 

The  Frenchman  shook  his  head  sadly,  then  smiled — - 
a  wistful  little  smile. 

"Wai,  it's  better  I  lose  dan  you — or  Necia;  I  ain' 
de  lucky  kin',  dat's  all;  an',  after  all,  w'at  good  to  me 
is  riche  gol'-mine  ?  I  ain'  got  no  use  for  money — any 
more." 

They  stood  in  the  doorway  together,  two  rugged, 
297 


THE    BARRIER 

Stalwart  figures,  different  in  blood  and  birth  and  every 
other  thing,  yet  brothers  withal,  whom  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  far  places  had  thrown  together  and  now 
drew  apart  again.  And  they  were  sad,  these  two,  for 
their  love  was  deeper  than  comes  to  other  people,  and 
they  knew  this  was  farewell;  so  they  remained  thus 
side  by  side,  two  dumb,  sorrowful  men,  until  they  were 
addressed  by  a  person  who  hurried  from  the  town. 

He  came  as  an  apparition  bearing  the  voice  of  "No 
Creek*'  Lee,  the  mining  king,  but  in  no  other  way 
showing  sign  or  symbol  of  their  old  friend.  Its  style 
of  face  and  curious  outfit  were  utterly  foreign  to  the 
miner,  for  he  had  been  bearded  with  the  robust,  un 
kempt  growth  of  many  years,  tanned  to  a  leathery  hue, 
and  garbed  perennially  in  the  habit  of  a  scarecrow,  while 
this  creature  was  shaved  and  clipped  and  curried,  and 
the  clothes  it  stood  up  in  were  of  many  startling  hues. 
Its  face  was  scraped  so  clean  of  whiskers  as  to  be  a 
pallid  white,  but  lack  of  adornment  ended  at  this 
point  and  the  rest  was  overladen  wondrously,  while 
from  the  centre  of  the  half -brown,  half -white  face  the 
long,  red  nose  of  Lee  ran  out.  Beside  it  rolled  his  lone 
some  eye,  alive  with  excitement. 

He  came  up  with  a  strut,  illumining  the  landscape, 
and  inquired: 

"Well,  how  do  I  look?" 

" I'm  darned  if  I  know,"  said  Gale.  "But  it's  plumb 
miusual." 

"These  here  shoes  leak,"  said  the  spectacle,  pulling 
up  his  baggy  trousers  to  display  his  tan  footgear,  "be 
cause  they  was  made  for  dry  goin' — that's  why  they 
left  the  tops  off;  but  they've  got  a  nice,  healthy  color, 
ain't  they?  As  a  whole,  it  seems  to  me  I'm  sort  of 
nifty."  He  revolved  slowly  before  their  admiring 

298 


RUNNION    FINDS    THE    SINGING    PEOPLE 

gaze,  and  while  to  one  versed  in  the  manners  of  the 
Far  East  it  would  have  been  evident  that  the  original 
owner  of  these  clothes  had  come  from  somewhere 
beyond  the  Susquehanna,  and  had  either  been  a  foot 
ball  player  or  had  travelled  with  a  glee  club,  to  these 
three  Northmen  it  seemed  merely  that  here  was  the 
modish  echo  of  a  distant  civilization. 

' 4  Wat's  de  matter  on  your  face  ? ' '  said  Poleon.  ' '  You 
been  fightin'?" 

"I  ain't  shaved  in  a  long  time,  and  this  here  excite 
ment  has  kind  of  shattered  my  nerves.  I  didn't  have 
no  lookin'-glass,  neither,  in  my  shack,  so  I  had  to  use 
a  lard-can  cover.  Does  it  look  bad?" 

"Not  to  my  way  of  thinkin',"  said  Gale,  allaying 
"No  Creek's'*  anxiety.  "It's  more  desp'rate  than 
bad,  but  it  sort  of  adds  expression."  At  which  the 
miner's  pride  burst  bounds. 

"I'll  kindly  ask  you  to  note  the  shirt — ten  dollars  a 
copy,  that's  all!  I  got  it  from  the  little  Jew  down  yon. 
der.  See  them  red  spear-heads  on  the  boosum  ?  '  Flower 
dee  Lizzies,'  which  means '  calla  lilies '  in  French.  Every 
one  of  'em  cost  me  four  bits.  On  the  level — how  am  I  ?" 

"I  never  see  no  harness  jus'  lak  it  mese'f!"  exclaimed 
Doret.  "You  look  good  'nough  for  tin-horn  gambler. 
Say,  don'  you  wear  no  necktie  wit'  dem  kin'  of  clothes  ?" 

"No,  sir!  Not  me.  I'm  a  rude,  rough  miner,  and  I 
dress  the  part.  Low-cut,  blushin'  shoes  and  straw  hats 
I  can  stand  for,  likewise  collars — they  go  hand-in-hand 
with  pay-streaks;  but  a  necktie  ain't  neither  wore  for 
warmth  nor  protection;  it's  a  pomp  and  a  vanity,  and 
I'm  a  plain  man  without  conceit.  Now,  let's  proceed 
with  the  obsequies." 

It  was  a  very  simple,  unpretentious  ceremony  that 
took  place  inside  the  long,  low  house  of  logs,  and  yet 

299 


THE    BARRIER 

H  was  a  wonderful  thing  to  the  dark  shy  snaid  whc 
hearkened  so  breathlessly  beside  the  man  she  had 
singled  cut — the  clean-cut  man  in  uniform,  who  stood 
so  straight  and  tall,  making  response  in  a  voice  that 
had  neither  fear  nor  weakness  in  it.  When  they  had 
done  he  turned  and  took  her  reverently  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her  before  them  allt  then  she  went  and 
stood  beside  Gale  and  the  red  wife  who  was  no  wife, 
and  said,  simply, 

"1  am  very  happy," 

The  old  man  stooped,  and  for  the  fr-st  time  in  her 
memory  pressed  his  lips  to  hers,  then  went  out  into 
the  sunlight,  where  he  might  be  alone  with  himself  and 
the  memory  of  that  other  Merridy.  the  wcman  who,  to 
hims  was  more  than  all  the  women  of  the  world ;  the 
woman  who,  each  day  and  mght;  came  to  him,  and 
with  whom  he  had  kept  faith.  The  burden  she  had 
laid  upon  him  had  been  heavy ,  but  he  had  borne  it  long 
and  uncomplainingly,  and  now  he  was  very  glad,  for 
he  had  kept  his  covenant. 

The  first  word  of  the  wedding  was  borne  by  Father 
Barnum,  who  went  alone  to  the  cabin  where  the  girl's 
father  lay, entering  with  trepidation,  for,  in  spite  of  the 
pleas  of  justice  and  humanity,  this  stony-hearted, 
amply  hated  man  had  certain  rights  which  he  might 
choose  to  enforce ;  hence,  the  good  priest  feared  for  the 
peace  of  his  little  charge,  and  approached  the  stricken 
•man  with  apprehension.  He  was  there  a  long  time 
alone  with  Stark,  and  when  he  returned  to  Gale's  house 
he  would  answer  no  questions, 

a*He  is  a  strange  man — a  wonderfully  strange  man: 
unrepentant  and  wicked;  but  1  can't  tell  you  what  he 
Have  a  little  patience  and  you  will  soon  know,9' 

The  mail  boatfl  which  had  arrived  an  hour  after 
300 


RCNNKOW    FUNDS   THE    SINGING    PEOPLE 

Mission  boat  was  ready  to  continue  its  run  when,  just 
as  it  blew  a  warning  blast,  down  the  street  of  the  camp 
came  a  procession  so  strange  for  this  land  that  men 
•topped  eyed  it  curiously,  and  whispered  among  them- 
•elves.  U  was  a  blanketed  man  upon  a  stretcher,  car 
ried  by  a  doctor  and  a  priesto  The  face  was  muffled  so 
that  the  idlers  could  not  make  it  out  and  when  they 
inquired  they  received  no  answer  from  the  carriers, 
who  pursued  their  course  impassively  down  the  run 
way  to  the  water's  edge  and  up  the  gang-plank  to  the 
deck.  When  the  boat  had  gone,  and  the  last  faint 
cough  of  its  towering  stacks  had  <*aed  away,  Father 
Barnum  turned  to  his  friends: 

"He  has  gone  away,  not  for  a  day,  but  for  all  time. 
He  is  a  strange  man,  and  some  things  he  said  I  could 
not  understand.  At  first  I  feared  greatly,  for  when 
I  told  him  what  had  occurred — of  Necia's  return  and 
of  her  marriage — he  became  so  enraged  I  thought  he 
would  burst  open  his  wounds  and  die  from  his  very 
fury;  but  I  talked  a  long,  long  time  with  him,  and 
gradually  I  came  to  know  somewhat  of  his  queer,  dis 
ordered  soul.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  face  de 
feat  in  the  eyes  of  men,  or  to  see  the  knowledge  of  it 
in  their  bear.ug ;  therefore,  he  fled.  He  told  me  that  he 
would  be  a  bunted  animal  all  his  life;  that  the  news 
of  his  whipping  would  travel  ahead  of  him;  and  that 
his  enemies  would  search  him  out  to  take  advantage 
of  him.  This  I  could  not  grasp,  but  it  seemed  a  big 
thing  in  his  eyes — so  big  that  he  wept,  He  said  the 
only  decent  thing  he  could  or  would  do  was  to  leave 
the  daughter  he  had  never  known  to  that  happiness 
he  had  never  experienced,  and  wished  me  to  tell  her 
that  she  was  very  much  like  her  mother,  who  was  the 
woman  in  the  world.*' 

301 


CHAPTER  XIX 

fHB  CALL  OP  THE  OREADS 

'"pHERE  was  mingled  rejoicing  and  lamentation  hi 
1  the  household  of  John  Gale  this  afternoon.  Molly 
and  Johnny  were  in  the  throes  of  an  overwhelming 
sorrow,  the  noise  of  which  might  be  heard  from  the 
barracks  to  the  Indian  village.  They  were  sparing  of 
tears  as  a  rule,  but  when  they  did  give  way  to  woe 
they  published  it  abroad,  yelling  with  utter  abandon, 
their  black  eyes  puckered  up,  their  mouths  distended 
into  squares,  from  which  came  such  a  measure  of  sound 
as  to  rack  the  ears  and  burden  the  air  heavily  with 
sadness.  Poleon  was  going  away!  Their  own  partic 
ular  Poleon!  Something  was  badly  askew  in  the  gen 
eral  scheme  of  affairs  to  permit  of  such  a  thing,  and 
they  manifested  their  grief  so  loudly  that  Burrell, 
who  knew  nothing  of  Doret's  intention,  sought  them 
out  and  tried  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  ito  They  had 
found  the  French-Canadian  at  the  river  with  their 
father,  loading  his  canoe,  and  they  had  asked  him 
whither  he  fared.  When  the  meaning  of  his  words 
struck  home  they  looked  at  each  other  in  dismay,  then, 
bred  as  they  were  to  mask  emotion,  they  joined  hands 
and  trudged  silently  back  up  the  bank  with  filling  ey<ss 
and  chins  a-quiver  until  they  gained  the  rear  of  the 
house.  Here  they  sat  down  all  forlorn,  and  began  to 
weep  bitterly  and  in  an  ascending  crescendo, 

302 


THE    CALL    OP    THE    OREADS 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  tikes,  anyhow?"  in 
quired  the  Lieutenant.  He  had  always  filled  them 
with  a  speechless  awe,  and  at  his  unexpected  appear 
ance  they  began  the  slow  and  painful  process  of  swal 
lowing  their  grief .  He  was  a  nice  man,  they  had  both 
agreed  long  ago  and  very  splendid  to  the  eyer  but  he 
was  nothing  like  Poleon,  who  was  one  of  them,  only 
somewhat  bigger. 

"Come,  now!  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  the  soldier  in 
sisted.  "Has  something  happened  to  the  three-legger1 
puppy?" 

Molly  denied  the  occurrence  of  any  such  catas 
trophe. 

"Then  you've  lost  the  little  shiny  rifle  that  shoots 
with  aii  ?"  But  Johnny  dispelled  this  horrible  sus 
picion  by  drawing  the  formidable  weapon  out  of  the 
grass  behind  him. 

"Well,  there  isn't  anything  else  bad  enough  to  cause 
all  this  outlay  of  anguish.  Can't  I  help  you  out?*' 

*'  Poleon  1"  they  wailed,  in  unison. 

"Exactly?     What  about  him?vv 

"He's  gomk  away!"  said  Johnny. 

"He's  gom  away!"  echoed  Molly. 

"Now,  that's  too  bad,  of  course/'  the  young  man 
assented;  "but  think  what  nice  things  he'll  bring  you 
when  he  comes  back.*' 

"He  ain't  commv  back!"  announced  the  heir,  with 
the  tone  that  conveys  a  sorrow  unspeakable 

"He  ain't  comin'  back!"  wailed  the  little  girl,  and, 
being  a  woman,  yielded  again  to  her  weakness,  un 
ashamed 

Burrell  tried  to  extract  a  more  detailed  explanation, 
but  this  was  as  far  as  their  knowledge  ran.  So  he 
•ought  out  the  Canadian,  and  found  him  with  Gate  in 

303 


THE    BARRIER 

the  store,  a  scanty  pile  of  food  and  ammunition  on  the 
counter  between  them. 

"Poleon,"  said  he,  "you're  not  going  away?" 

?'Yes,"  said  Doret.     "I'm  takin'  liT  trip." 

"But  when  are  you  coming  back?" 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Dat's  hard  t'ing  for  tellin'.  I'm  resless  in  my 
heart,  so  I'm  goin1  travel  some.  I  ain'  never  pass  on 
de  back  trail  yet,  so  I  'spect  I  keep  goin'." 

"Oh,  but  you  can't!"  cried  Burrell.  "I— I—"  He 
paused  awkwardly,  while  down  the  breeze  came  the 
lament  of  the  two  little  Gales.  "Well,  I  feel  just  as 
they  do."  He  motioned  in  the  direction  of  the  sound. 
*'I  wanted  you  for  a  friend,  Doret;  I  hate  to  lose  you." 

"I  ain'  never  got  my  satisfy  yet,  so  I'm  pass  on — • 
all  de  tarn'  pass  on.  Mebbe  dis  trip  I  fin'  de  place." 

"I'm  sorry — because — well,  I'm  a  selfish  sort  of  cuss 
— and — "  Burrell  pulled  up  blushingly,  with  a  strong 
man's  display  of  shame  at  his  own  emotion.  "  I  owe 
all  my  happiness  to  you,  old  man.  I  can't  thank  you 
• — neither  of  us  can — we  shall  never  live  long  enough 
for  that,  but  you  mustn't  go  without  knowing  that  1 
feel  more  than  I'll  ever  have  words  to  say." 

He  was  making  it  very  hard  for  the  Frenchman, 
whose  heart  was  aching  already  with  a  dull,  unending 
pain.  Poleon  had  hoped  to  get  away  quietly ;  his  heart 
was  too  heavy  to  let  him  face  Necia  or  thi?  man,  and 
run  the  risk  of  their  reading  his  secret,  so  a  plaintive 
wrinkle  gathered  between  his  eyes  that  grew  into  a 
smile.  And  then,  as  if  he  were  not  tried  sufficiently, 
the  girl  herself  came  flying  in. 

"What's  this  I  hear  ?"  she  cried.  " Alluna  tells  me — w 
She  saw  the  telltale  pile  on  the  counter,  and  her  face 
grew  whit/  "Then  it's  true!  Ohs  Poleon  I" 

304 


THE    CALL    OP    THE    OREADS 

He  smiled,  and  spoke  cheerily.  "Yes,  I  been  t'inkin9 
"bout  dis  trip  long  tarn'." 

"When  are  you  coming  back?" 

"Wai,  if  I  fin*  dat  new  place  w'at  I'm  lookin'  for 
I  don*  never  come  back.  You  people  was  good  frien* 
to  me,  but  I'm  kin*  of  shif'less  feller t  you  know.  Mebbe 
I  forget  all  *bout  Flambeau,  an'  stop  on  my  4  New 
Countree  ' — you  never  can  tol*  w'at  dcse  Franchemans 
goin*  do." 

"It's  the  wander-lust,"  murmured  Burrell  to  him 
self;  "he'll  never  rest." 

"What  a  child  you  are!"  cried  Necia,  half  angrily. 
"Can't  you  conquer  that  roving  spirit  and  settle  down 
like  a  man  ?"  She  la*d  her  hand  on  his  arm  appealingly. 
"Haven't  I  told  you  there  isn't  any  'far  country'? 
Haven't  I  told  you  that  this  path  leads  only  to  hard 
ship  and  suffering  and  danger?  The  land  you  are 
looking  for  is  there  " — she  touched  his  breast — "so  why 
don't  you  stay  in  Flambeau  and  let  us  help  you  to 
find  it?" 

He  was  deeply  grateful  for  her  blindness,  and  yet  it 
hurt  him  so  that  his  great  heart  was  nigh  to  bursting. 
Why  couldn't  she  see  the  endless,  hopeless  yearning 
that  consumed  him,  and  know  that  if  he  stayed  in  sight 
and  touch  of  her  it  would  be  like  a  living  death  ?  Per 
haps,  then,  she  would  have  given  over  urging  him  to  do 
what  he  longed  to  do,  and  let  him  go  on  that  search 
he  knew  was  hopeless,  and  in  which  he  had  no  joy. 
But  she  did  not  see;  she  would  never  see.  He  laughed 
aloud,  for  all  the  world  as  if  the  sun  were  bright  and 
the  fret  for  adventure  were  still  keen  in  him,  then,  pick 
ing  up  his  bundle,  said: 

"Dere's  no  use  argue  wit*  Canayen  man,  Mebbe 
eome  day  I  come  paddle  back  roun'  de  ben*  down 

305 


THE    BARRIER 

yonder,  an*  you  hear  me  smgin'  dose  chanson;  but  now 
de  day  she's  too  fine,  de  river  she's  laugh  too  loud,  an* 
de  birds  she's  sing  too  purty  for  Francheman  to  stop 
on  shore.  Ba  gosh,  I'm  glad!"  He  began  to  hum, 
and  they  heard  him  singing  all  the  way  down  to  the 
river-bank,  as  if  the  spirit  of  Youth  and  Hope  an4 
Gladness  were  not  dead  within  him,, 

"Chante",  rossignol,  chanttt 

Tot  qui  d  le  coeur  gai ; 

Tu  as  le  coeur  d,  rire 

Mai  f  V  ai-ta  pleurer, 

II  y  a  longtemps  que  f  faime 
Jamais  je  ne  t'oublierai"1 

A  moment  later  they  heard  him  expostulating  with 
some  one  at  the  water's  edge,  and  then  a  child's  treble 
rose  on  high. 

"No,  no!     I'm  goin',  too!     I'm  goin',  too-o-o-o — " 

"Hey!  John  Gale!"  called  Poleon.  "Come 'ere!  Ba 
gosh!  You  better  horry,  too!  I  can't  hoi'  dis  feller 
long." 

When  they  appeared  on  the  bank  above  him,  he 
continued,  "Look  'ere  w'at  I  fin'  on  my  batteau," 
and  held  up  the  wriggling  form  of  Johnny  Gale.  "He's 
stow  hisse'f  away  onder  dem  blanket.  Sacre*!  He's 
bad  feller,  dis  man — don'  pay  for  hees  ticket  at  all;  he's 
reg'lar  toff  mug." 

"  I  want  to  go  'long!"  yelled  the  incorrigible  stow* 

14<Sing,  little  bird,  oh,  sing  away! 

You  with  the  voice  so  light  and  gay! 
Yours  is  a  heart  that  laughter  cheers, 
Mine  is  a  heart  that's  full  of  tears. 

Long  have  I  loved,  I  love  her  yet; 

Leave  her  I  can,  but  not  forget." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    OREADS 

away.  He  had  brought  his  gun  with  him,  and  this 
weapon,  peeping  forth  from  under  Poleon's  blanket, 
had  betrayed  him.  "I  want  to  go  'long!"  shrieked  the 
little  man.  "I  like  you  best  of  all!"  At  which  Doret 
took  him  in  his  arms  and  hugged  him  fiercely. 

"Wai,  I  guess  you  don*  t'ink  *bout  dem  beeg  black 
bear  at  night,  eh?"  But  this  only  awoke  a  keener 
distress  in  the  junior  Gale. 

"Oh,  maybe  de  bear  will  get  you,  Poleon!  Let  me 
go  'long,  and  I'll  keep  dem  off.  Two  men  is  better  dan 
one — please,  Poleon  1" 

It  took  the  efforts  of  Necia  and  the  trader  combined 
to  tear  the  lad  from  the  Frenchman,  and  even  then  the 
foul  deed  was  accomplished  only  at  the  cost  of  such 
wild  acclaim  and  evidence  of  undying  sorrow  that  lit 
tle  Molly  came  hurrying  from  the  house,  her  round  face 
stained  and  tearful,  her  mouth  an  inverted  crescent. 
She  had  gone  to  the  lame  puppy  for  comfort,  and  now 
strangled  him  absent-mindedly  in  her  arms,  clutching 
him  to  her  breast  so  tightly  that  his  tongue  lolled  out 
and  his  three  legs  protruded  stiffly,  pawing  an  aimless 
pantomime.  When  Johnny  found  that  no  hope  re 
mained,  he  quelled  his  demonstrations  of  emotion  and, 
as  befitted  a  stout-hearted  gentleman  of  the  woods, 
bore  a  final  present  to  his  friend.  He  took  the  little 
air-gun  and  gave  it  into  Poleon's  hands  against  that 
black  night  when  the  bears  would  come,  and  no  man 
ever  made  a  greater  sacrifice.  Doret  picked  him  up 
by  the  elbows  and  kissed  him  again  and  again,  then 
set  him  down  gently,  at  which  Molly  scrambled  for 
ward,  and  without  word  or  presentation  speech  gave 
him  her  heart's  first  treasure.  She  held  out  the  three- 
legged  puppy,  for  a  gun  and  a  dog  should  ever  go  to 
gether;  then,  being  of  the  womankind  aforesaid,  she 

307 


THE    BARRIER 

began  to  cry  as  she  kissed  her  pet  good-bye  on  its 
cold,  wet  nose. 

"Wat's  dis?"  said  Poleon,  and  his  voice  quavered, 
for  these  childish  fingers  tore  at  his  heart-strings  ter 
ribly. 

"He's  a  very  brave  doggie,"  said  the  little  girl. 
"He  will  scare  de  bears  away!"  And  then  she  became 
dissolved  in  tears  at  the  anguish  her  offering  cost  her. 

Doret  caressed  her  as  he  had  her  brother,  then 
placed  the  puppy  carefully  upon  the  blankets  in  the 
canoe,  where  it  wagged  a  grateful  and  amiable  stump 
at  him  and  regained  its  breath.  It  was  the  highest 
proof  of  Molly's  affection  for  her  Poleon  that  she  kept 
her  tear-dimmed  eyes  fixed  upon  the  dog  as  long  as  it 
was  visible. 

The  time  had  come  for  the  last  good-bye — that  awk 
ward  moment  when  human  hearts  are  full  and  spoken 
words  are  empty.  Burrell  gripped  the  Frenchman's 
hand.  He  was  grateful,  but  he  did  not  know. 

"Good -luck  and  better  hunting!"  he  said.  "A 
heavy  purse  and  a  light  heart  for  you  always,  Poleon. 
I  have  learned  to  love  you." 

"I  want  you  to  be  good  husban*,  M'sieu*.  Dat's  de 
bes'  t'ing  I  can  wish  for  you." 

Gale  spoke  to  him  in  patois,  and  all  he  said  was: 

"May  you  not  forget,  my  son." 

They  did  not  look  into  each  other's  eyes;  there  was 
no  need.  The  old  man  stooped,  and,  taking  both  his 
children  by  the  hand,  walked  slowly  towards  the  house. 

"Dis  tarn'  I'll  fin'  it  for  sure,"  smiled  Poleon  to  Necia. 

Her  eyes  were  shining  through  the  tears,  and  she 
whispered,  fervently: 

"I  hope  so,  brother.     God  love  you — always." 

It  was  grief  at  losing  a  playmate,  a  dear  and  well* 
308 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    OREADS 

beloved  companion.  He  knew  it  well,  and  he  was  g)ad 
now  that  he  had  never  said  a  word  of  love  to  her.  3ft 
added  to  his  pain,  but  it  lightened  hers,  and  that  had 
ever  been  his  wish.  He  gazed  on  her  for  a  long  mo 
ment,  taking  in  that  blessed  image  which  would  ever 
live  with  him — in  his  eyes  was  the  light  of  a  love  as 
pure  and  clean  as  ever  any  maid  had  seen,  and  in  his 
heart  a  sorrow  that  would  never  cease. 

"Good-bye,  liT  gal,"  he  said,  then  dropped  her 
hand  and  entered  his  canoe.  With  one  great  stroke  he 
drove  it  out  and  into  the  flood,  then  headed  away  tow 
ards  the  mists  and  colors  of  the  distant  hills,  where 
the  Oreads  were  calling  to  him.  He  turned  for  one 
last  look,  and  flung  his  paddle  high;  then,  fearing  lest 
they  might  see  the  tears  that  came  at  last  unhindered, 
he  began  to  sing: 

"Chanti,  rossignol,  chantff 
Toi  qui  a  le  coeur  gai ; 
Tu  as  le  coeur  a  rire 
Mai  f  r  ai-t-a  pkurer. 

He  sang  long  and  lustay.  Keeping  time  to  the  dip 
of  his  flashing  paddle  ana  deiying  his  bursting  heart. 
After  all,  was  he  not  a  voyageur,  and  life  but  a  song 
and  a  tear,  and  then  a  dream  or  two  ? 

"I  wish  I  might  have  known  him  better,"  sighed 
Meade  Burrell,  as  he  watched  the  receding  form  of  the 
boatman. 

"You  would  have  loved  him  as  we  do,"  said  Necia* 
"and  you  would  have  missed  him  as  we  will." 

"I  hope  some  time  he  will  be  happy." 

"As  happy  as  you,  my  soldier?" 
309 


THE    BARRIER 

?*'Yes;  but  that  he  can  never  be,"  said  her  husband 
vfor  no  man  could  love  as  I  love  you." 

**  Yours  is  a  heart  that  laughter  cheers. 
Mine  is  a  heart  that's  full  of  tears. 
Long  have  I  loved,  I  love  her  yet; 
Leave  her  I  can,  but  not  forget — " 

came  the  voice  of  the  singer  far  down  the  stream, 
A&d  thus  Poleon  of  the  Great  Heart  went  awav. 


The  greatest  pleasure  in  life  is 
that  of  reading.  Why  not  then 
own  the  books  of  great  novelists 
when  the  price  is  so  small 


C  Of  oil  the  amusements  which  can  possibly 
be  imagined  for  a  hard-working  man,  after 
his  daily  toil,  or  in  its  intervals,  there  is 
nothing  like  reading  an  entertaining  book. 
It  calls  for  no  bodily  exertion.  It  transports 
him  into  a  livelier,  and  gayer,  and  more  di 
versified  and  interesting  scene,  and  while  he 
enjoys  himself  there  he  may  forget  the  evils 
of  the  present  moment.  Nay,  it  accompanies 
him  to  his  next  day's  work,  and  gives  him 
something  to  think  of  besides  the  m^ere 
mechanical  drudgery  of  his  cvery-day  occu 
pation — something  hr  can  enjoy  while  absent, 
and  look  fonvard  -uAth  pleasure  to  return  to. 

Ask  your  dcrlcr  for  a  list  of  the  titles 
in    Burl's    Popular    Priced     Fiction 


In  buying  the  books  bearing  the 
A.  L,.  Eurt  Company  imprint 
you  are  assured  of  wholesome,  en 
tertaining  and  instructive  reading 


THE  BEST  OF  RECENT  FICTION 

Poisoned  Paradise,  The.  Robert  W.  Service.  (Photoplay  Ed.). 

Portygee,    The.    Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Possession.    Olive  Wadsley. 

Postmaster,  The.    Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Prairie  Child,  The.     Arthur  Stringer, 

Prairie  Flowers,    James  B.  Hendryx. 

Prairie  Mother,  The.    Arthur  Stringer. 

Prairie  Wife,  The.    Arthur  Stringer. 

Pretender,  The.    Robert  W.  Service. 

Prince  of  Sinners,  A.    E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Prodigal  Daughters,  The.    Joseph  Hocking.  (Photoplay  Ed./, 

Prodigal  Son.     Hall  Caine.     (Photoplay  Ed.). 

Profiteers,  The.    E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Promise,  The.    J.  B.  Hendryx. 

Public  Square,  The.    Will  Levington  Comfort 

Purple  Mask,  The*     Louise  Jordan  Miln. 

Purple  Pearl,  The.    Anthony  Pryde. 

Quemado.    William  West  Winter. 

Quest  of  the  Sacred  Slipper,  The.    Sax  Rohmer. 

Quill's  Window.    George  Barr  McCutcheon, 

Rainbow's  End,  The.     Rex  Beach. 

Rainbow  Valley.     L.  M.  Montgomery, 

Ramshackle  House.     Hulbert  Footner. 

Ranch  at  the  Wolverine,  The.    B.  M.  Bower.  , 

Ranching  for  Sylvia.     Harold  Bindloss. 

Rangy  Pete.  Guy  Morton. 

Raspberry  Jam,    Carolyn  Wells. 

Reclaimers,  The.     Margaret  Hill  Me  Carter. 

Re-Creation  of  Brian  Kent,  The.     Harold  Bell  Wright 

Red  and  Black.     Grace   S.   Richmond. 

Red  Pepper  Burns.    Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Red  Pepper's  Patients.    Grace  S.  Richmond, 

Red  Seal,  The.     Natalie  Sumner  Lincoln. 

Restless  Sex,  The.    Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Return  of  Dr.  Fu-Manchu,  The.    Sax  Rohmer. 

Return  of  Frank  Clamart,  The.    Henry  C.  Rowland. 

Return  of  Tarzan  The.    Edgar  Rice  Burroughs. 

Riddle  of  the  Frozen  Flame  The,    M.  E.  and  T.  W.  Hanshew. 

Riddle  of  the  Mysterious   Light  The.     M.    E.   and  T.    W. 

Hanshew. 
Riddle  of  the   Purple  Emperor  The,      M.   E.   and   T.    W. 

Hanshew. 
Riddle   of   the   Spinning   Wheel,   The.     M.    E.   and   T.    W. 

Hanshew. 


AT     'A      POPULAR      PKTCE 

Rider  of  the  Golden  Bar,  The.    William  Patterson  White, 
Rider  of  the  King  Log,  The.    Holman  Day. 
Rider  o'  the  Stars.    R.  J.  Horton. 
Riders  of  the  Silences.    John  Frederick. 
Rilla  of  Ingleside.    L.  M.  Montgomery. 
Rimrock  Trail.    J.  Allan  Dunn. 
Rise  of  Roscoe  Paine,  The.    Joseph  C.  Lincoln; 
River  Trail,  The,     Laurie  Y.  Erskine. 
Robin.    Frances  Hodgsrm  Burnett. 
Rocks  of  Valpre,  The.    Ethel  M.  Dell. 
Rogues  of  the  North.    Albert  M.  Treynor. 
Romance  of  a  Million  Dollars,  Thes.    Elizabeth  Dejeans. 
Rosa  Mundi.    Ethel  M.  Dell. 
Rose  of  Santa  Fe,  The.    Edwin  L.  Sabin. 
Round  the  Corner  in  Gay  Street.    Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Round-Up,  The.    Oscar  J.  Friend. 
Rung  Ho!    Talbot  Mundy. 
Rustler  c!  Wind  River,  The,       G.  W.  Ogden. 
St  Elmo.  (111.    Ed.)  Augusta  J.  Evans. 
Sand.    Olive  Wadsley. 
Scarlet  Iris,  The.    Vance  Thompson. 
Scattergood  Baincs.     Clarence  Budington  Kelland. 
Second  Violin,  The.    Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Secret  Power,  The.    Marie  Corelli. 
Self-Raised.   (111).     Mrs.  Southworth. 
Settling  of  the  Sage.    Hal  G.  Evarts. 
Seven  Ages  of  Woman,  The.    Compton  Mackenzie, 
Seveii  Darlings,  The.     Gouverneur  Morris. 
Seventh  Man,  The.     Max  Brand. 

Shadow  of  the  East,  The.    E.  M.  Hull.    (Photoplay  Ed.)'. 
Shadow  on  the  Glass,  The.    Charles  J.  Dutton. 
Shavings.    Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 
Sheik,  The.     E.  M.  Hull. 

Sheila  of  Big  Wreck  Cove.    James  H.  Cooper. 
Shepherd  of  the  Hills,  The.     Harold  Bell  Wright 
Shepherds  of  the  Wild.     Edison  Marshall. 
Sheriff  of  Dyke  Hole,  The.    Ridgwell  Cullum. 
Sherry.    George  Barr  McCutcheon. 
Shoe-Bar  Stratton.     Joseph  B.  Ames. 

Sight  Unseen,  and  The  Confession,    Mary  Roberts  Rinehart 
Silver  Horde,  The.    Rex  Beach. 
Silver  Poppy,  The.     Arthur  Stringer. 
Singing  Bone,  The.    R.  Austin  Freeman. 
Wells,  The*    Roland  Pertwce. 


THE   BEST  OF   RECENT   FICTION 

Sinister  Mark,  The.    Lee  Thayer. 

Sin  That  Was  His,  The.     Frank  L.  Packard. 

Sir  or  Madam.     Berta  Ruck. 

Sisters-in-Law.     Gertrude  Atherton. 

Sky  Line  of  Spruce.     Edison  Marshall. 

Slayer  of  Souls,  The.    Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Smiles:  A  Rose  of  the  Cumberlands.    Eliot  H.  Robinson. 

Snowdrift.    James  B.  Hendryx. 

Snowshoe  Trail,  The.     Edison  Marshall. 

Son  of  His  Father,  The.    Ridgweil  Cullum. 

Son  of  Tarzan,  The.     Edgar  Rice  Burroughs. 

Souls  for  Sale.     Rupert  Hughes.     (Photoplay  Ed.). 

Speckled  Bird,  A.     Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Spirit  of  the  Border,  The.     Zane  Grey.     (New  Edition). 

Spirit-of-Iron.     Harwood  Steele. 

Spoilers,  The.     Rex  Beach.     (Photoplay  Ed.). 

Spoilers  of  the  Valley,  The.    Robert  Watson. 

Star  Dust.     Fannie  Hurst. 

Steele  of  the  Royal  Mounted.    James  Oliver  Curwood. 

Step  on  the  Stair,  The.     Anna  Katherine  Green. 

Still  Jim.     Honore  Willsie. 

Story  of  Foss  River  Ranch,  The.     Ridgweil   Cullum. 

Story  of  Marco,  The.     Eleanor  H.  Porter. 

Strange  Case  of  Cavendish,  The.    Randall  Parrish. 

Strawberry  Acres.     Grace  S.  Richmond* 

Strength  of  the  Pines,  The.     Edison  Marshall. 

Subconscious  Courtship,  The.    Berta  Ruck. 

Substitute  Millionaire,  The.     Hulbert  Footner. 

Sudden  Jim.     Clarence  B.  Kelland. 

Sweethearts  Unmet.     Berta  Ruck. 

Sweet  Stranger.     Berta  Ruck. 

Tales  of  Chinatown.    Sax  Rohmer. 

Tales  of  Secret  Egypt.    Sax  Rohmer. 

Tales  of  Sherlock  Holmes.     A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Talkers,  The.    Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Talisman,  The.    Sir  Walter  Scott.  (Photoplay  Ed.).  Screened 

as  Richard  the  Lion  Hearted. 

Taming  of  Zenas  Henry,  The.    Sara  Ware  Basset 
Tarzan  of  the  Apes.     Edgar  Rice  Burroughs. 
Tarzan  and  the  Jewels  of  Opar.     Edgar  Rice  Burroughs. 
Tattooed  Arm,  The.     Isabel  Ostrander. 
Tempting  of  Tavernake,  The.     E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Tess  of  the  DtJrbervilles.    Thomas  Hardy.  (Photoplay  Ed.). 
Tex.     Clarence  E.  Mulford. 


DATE 


,YB  59665 


M15820 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


